


Like Being a Marionette

by Scootz



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Depression, I wrote this for NaNoWriMo 2015 and it's been sitting on my computer ever since, M/M, Might as well let people see it, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 08:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13566534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scootz/pseuds/Scootz
Summary: Internal homophobia sucks, especially when you're already depressed.





	Like Being a Marionette

**Author's Note:**

> So, I decided to do NaNoWriMo 2015 since I was on a break from school at the time, and of course I wanted to write a Johndave fanfic. So I did, made it to 50,000 words, and was so terrified I never showed it to anyone. So keep in mind this was written a couple years ago. :p
> 
> I wanted to write a work about depression, because I was struggling with it a lot at the time (still kinda do, tho it's better). I feel like there aren't that many Homestuck (or at least Johndave) fics about depression that actually have a good ending. No suicide here. There is an attempt, though.
> 
> This is my first written work of fiction entirely, so criticism is greatly appreciated on writing style, pace, and all the other writing basics. I have not done much editing on this, so it remains essentially as it was in 2015.

**John: Introduce yourself**

Your name is John Egbert; you’re 16 years old, and fuck your whole fucking life. Sure, your life may _seem_ alright. You have three best friends: Rose, Jade, and especially Dave. They’re always fun to be around; you hang out all the time, and they’re in your classes. You do well in school. You’re starting your junior year with a 3.7 GPA. You’re a little (very) nerdy, and yet everybody at school treats you well and bullying isn’t really an issue. You have a dad who loves you and cares about you. He even bakes you cakes to the point of repulsion. Everything in your life is going well.

Except it’s not. At least, it doesn’t feel that way. Your brain has a lot to say about you. Terrible, terrible things. How embarrassing you are, how you annoy your friends, and just how shitty you are in general.

_Why are you still here? What could you possibly have to contribute? Why would anyone care about you?_

You try to ignore them and cover them up. You mostly fail, but you do well enough that your friends don’t suspect anything. To them, you’re just a cheerful goofball who loves pranks and Nicolas Cage. Well, sometimes Rose will notice you acting a little strange and ask you what’s wrong. She’s very perceptive, but you’ve gotten good at concealing your feelings, and you’re able to fend her off for the most part.

 

**John: Start the school year**

It’s currently a painfully early 6:30 AM. As you mentioned before, you’re starting your junior year of high school. Dread fills your body. This is a normal reaction for most teenagers, but it’s not school you’re really worried about. Starting a new school year means change, and nothing terrifies you quite like change. It means new classes, new schedules, and new people. You know the routine of your internal discouragement every year, but that doesn’t really help anything.

_Your friends are going to make new friends. Friends that are better than you. Really, it’s surprising how long you’ve managed to keep them. Everyone is going to leave you, and you’re going to be alone._

Now, you’re a rational person. You know that your thoughts are unrealistic and untrue. You know Dave, Rose, and Jade love you and would never just drop you. At least, you’re pretty sure. But it doesn’t matter. Rational thought is no match for deep internal fear. As much as you _know_ these thoughts are false, you still _feel_ as if they’re true, and you have no idea what to do about it.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the beep of a car horn. You used to take the school bus, but you managed to convince Dave, who already has his license, to give you rides to school. He turned 16 last December and got it as quickly as he could, so he didn’t need his bro, who “has the reliability of a car from the 50s whose wheels are replaced with hula hoops”. Hastily putting on your shoes and grabbing your backpack, you realize you never ate breakfast. Oh well, it’s not like you would have been able to stomach it anyways. You run outside and hop in the passenger seat of his Volkswagen Beetle. He apparently got it for the irony, which is really just a word he uses to stop people from judging him.

“Hey Dave!” you greet him, feigning enthusiasm. “Ready for school?”

**Dave: Pick up John**

Your name is Dave Strider, and fuck everything about waking up early. That’s just not how you roll. But you don’t really have a choice, so get up early you do, immediately putting on your shades. You like to minimize the exposure of your bare red eyes. You grab a couple of pop tarts you foraged from a cupboard. You’d toast them, but your kitchen tends to be a mess, so you opt to just eat them as they are. You grab your backpack (which doesn’t actually have anything in it) and take it and your pop tarts your beetle, which is totally the most ironic car you could have gotten. Everyone who makes fun of it just wishes they could be as cool as you are.

You agreed to give your best bro John rides to and from school, now that you have your license. You practically made him beg for it, but really you would have done it anyways. He’s your best friend and you love the goober, although you’d be hard pressed to admit that out loud. Your coolkid reputation could be at stake.

You pull up to John’s house, which is the epitome of suburban, especially when compared to your apartment closer to the city. Your part of the city is lumped in with all the suburbs as far as schooling goes, so you two get to go to the same middle school and high school. You can’t imagine what your life would have been like if you hadn’t. You’re so grateful to have John as your best friend, but you’re not about to admit that either.

You expect him to come out all ready, but nothing happens. You wait a couple minutes before getting annoyed and honking your horn. John runs out soon after, looking messier than usual. His hair is all over the place (which it usually is, but at least there’s usually some cleanliness to it), his socks don’t match, and you notice he’s not even carrying a backpack.

“Hey Dave!” he says in that perpetually cheery tone of his. You don’t know how he manages to be so upbeat all the time. “Ready for school?”

“ _I_ am. What about you though? And I thought here I was being minimalist with my empty backpack, but you took it to the next level,” you say smugly.

“SHIT!” he yelps and runs back into his house as if he needs his backpack to live. He comes back with his backpack, which looks pretty heavy for the first day of school. What a nerd, you smile to yourself (internally, of course. Your poker face remains as rigid as ever).

“What could you possibly have in there already, Egnerd?” you tease him as you start driving.

“Shut up, Dave! Like you can criticize me on my schooling habits, Mr. 2.7 GPA.”

“That’s cause school doesn’t take my interests seriously. If my GPA was based on photography and paleontology, I’d have a 4.0, man.”

“Yeah, but you don’t, and unfortunately art schools are still gonna look at that stuff,” he reminds you.

“Anyone who rejects me doesn’t deserve me,” you retort matter-of-factly.

“Whatever you say.”

Most of the ride proceeds in silence. You’re mostly focused on the road, but you can see John out of the corner of your eye. He’s fidgeting in his seat and won’t stop messing with his hair. You’ve been his friend long enough to know that something’s up.

As you pull into the parking lot, you ask him, “Yo, what’s wrong bro?”

“What?” he responds, a little too loud and a little too quickly. “Oh, uh, nothing… why?” he asks, looking everywhere except at you.

“Cause you’re acting like a nervous wreck,” you tell him.

“I’m fine!” he exclaims, way too defensively to be telling the truth.

“Whatever. But don’t hide things from your best bro. We’re tighter than a Catholic schoolgirl, k?” you reassure.

“Ew, Dave!” John giggles. He has the cutest laugh, and you can’t help but smirk. Usually you’d try to hide it, but John is already past most of your emotional barriers.

He looks up at you when he’s done laughing. You two look at each other for probably a bit longer than you should. You think you see a red tint form on his cheeks, but it’s to tell under the deep tan of his skin.

**John: Enough exposition. Go to school already.**

Alright, sheesh. You’re getting a bit uncomfortable anyways.

“Uh… we should probably go in now, before we’re late,” you laugh nervously. “We still need to get our schedules and find our new classrooms.”

“Let’s go then.” Dave hops out and flips off some people making fun of his car.

You both pick up your schedules and are disappointed to find that you don’t have many classes, although with the difference in your academic rigor, this is to be expected.

“Least we got PE together,” Dave says.

“Yeah, PE, the best class there is,” you reply with an eye roll.

“It’ll be good for ya,” Dave teases. You stick your tongue out at him as you both depart for your first classes. Dave has Algebra 2, but being the student you are, you’re in AP Calculus. As a junior. This prospect scares you, because it’s usually a senior class.

You silently pray as you walk to your classroom that there will be somebody in your class that you know and can tolerate. You only know one person in the senior class, and the idea of a class full of strangers terrifies you, even though you’ve never really had any bad run-ins with unfamiliar students. Just another piece of bullshit you have to put up with from yourself, you guess.

Fate decides to do you one better. When you get to your class, your heart skips in excitement when you see Rose. She’s sitting in the back left corner, knitting what appears to be a scarf. You quickly grab the desk next to her.

“Hey Rose!” you greet her, genuinely cheerful with relief sweeping across your body.

“Hello John,” she responds, in that sophisticated tone she always likes to carry. “Fancy seeing you here,” she smirks.

You give her a big hug, which is a bit awkward with her position, but she reciprocates anyways.

“I’m so glad to see you!” you tell her.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen me lately. I know I’m pretty introverted, but we still did many things together over the summer,” she states.

“Well duh, but I mean I’m glad I have a friend in this class!” you grin at her.

“Oh. Well, in that case, I am glad to see you too, John.” She gives you a real smile this time.

_Wow, you’re really annoying._

Suddenly, an older woman whom you assume is your teacher walks in.

“Good morning, class! I know it’s the first day, but we can’t waste any time. Let’s learn about limits.”

 

 

**Rose: Observe John**

For most this would be a strange request, but you are not like most. Your name is Rose Lalonde, and you pride yourself in your ability to read and psychoanalyze people. Anyone who has known you for a significant amount of time is aware of your abilities, and often try to defend themselves against them. They’re not very successful.

You were the first to arrive in your AP Calculus class. You chose a seat in the corner of the back of the room, as you enjoy the peace the far back affords you. Not that you aren’t a good student, but you prefer to participate on your own terms. Waiting for class to begin, you resumed your knitting project: a scarf, intended as a Christmas present for your mother. You put as much detail and mastery into it as you can; you’re determined to have the better present this year.

You’re interrupted from your stupor by a voice you immediately recognize as none other than John Egbert, one of your closest friends. He seems cheerful, but that’s not the only feeling you get from him; his excitement seems to be from relief. You wonder what would be wrong that he would be relieved to see you when you have not been apart for very long. You attempt to probe him with a question, but get no answers before the teacher cuts off your conversation.

**== >**

Soon enough, it’s time for lunch. Being a relatively small school, everyone has lunch at the same time. This saves you the trouble of figuring out who you’re going to sit with, because the answer is always obvious. The prospect never worried you too much, as you can easily entertain yourself, but it’s always nice to have your friends around to lighten the mood. You figure they appreciate it as well.

You arrive at the cafeteria and quickly spot Jade sitting by herself at a round table. You take the seat to her left.

“Hey Rose!” she greets you excitedly as soon as she sees you. Jade Harley is the most genuinely excitable person you know, and you’ve grown to appreciate the mood-rising attitude she has to offer. Her outgoing personality is almost a foil to your own reservation.

“Good afternoon, Jade,” you greet her pleasantly. “Have you been enjoying your classes so far?”

“Hell yeah!” she answers. “My Physics teacher is so fun, and English is great! Ms. Paint is a sweetheart, and I may even have made a new friend!”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Really? How could you have a new friend when your three best friends already have all the qualities you could ever want?” you jokingly ask her.

“You wish, Rose,” she jabs, still smiling. “He sat next to me, and he seemed grumpy at first, but he still talked to me, and—Hey Dave!”

 

**John: Join your friends**

You’re relieved to see your friends sitting together at lunch. You join them while Dave and Jade are in the middle of a conversation, taking a seat between Dave and Rose.

Jade eagerly greets you before returning to what she was saying. “But yeah, Karkat and I bonded in English class, and I even invited him to sit with us! He said he was going to sit with his normal group of friends, though.”

_There, you see? They’re already trying to replace you._

“Karkat? That kid who’s always angry?” Dave questions. “You two are basically opposites; how could you possibly have a sane conversation?”

You know Karkat; he tends to have some of the same classes as you. He really is very angry. You giggle as Jade defends herself. “Ever heard of opposites attract, numbnuts? Anyways, he’s not that bad if you actually talk to him!”

“Heh, maybe it’s just that his anger is infectious.”

“Yeah, well at least insufferable prick isn’t,” Jade retorts.

“Guys, stop!” you interrupt them both. You really don’t think you can handle your friends fighting right now.

“Relax, bro,” Dave reassures you. “We’re just grinding on each other a little, right Jade?” he looks at her.

“To protect the honor of Kar—”

“PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP. JESUS CHRIST, IT’S ONLY THE FIRST DAY AND YOU ALREADY MAKE ME WANT TO RIP OUT MY EYES AND STUFF THEM UP MY OWN ASSHOLE.”

Ew.

 

**John: Investigate the source of the shouting**

You turn to see none other than the guy in question, Karkat Vantas. You realize he and his normal group of friends are sitting at the table directly adjacent to yours. You’ve seen them around before, and frankly they’re the strangest group of people you’ve ever seen. From geeks to stoners and from muscular jocks to cheery girls, they represent the full spectrum of people you could possibly meet at a high school in just 12 people. One is even in a wheelchair and another is blind.

“Karkat!” Jade calls out to him. He turns around to look at her with an angry expression on his face (for him, that’s normal).

“JADE, I MAY NEED TO TAKE YOU UP ON THAT OFFER BEFORE VRISKA USES HER BITCH POWERS TO GIVE ME A BRAIN ANEURYSM.”

One of the girls across from Karkat throws a tater tot at him. “Chill out Karkles, nobody actually cares. It’s all in the past, so stop throwing a tantrum.”

You recognize the girl as the aforementioned Vriska. You kind of know her. She’s one grade above you, a senior, but she took a liking to you a couple years ago. She likes to make conversation with you, a worrying amount of them involving spiders. And she has an unusually strong belief in luck. She’s strange, but you’ve never had a problem and she always acts nice toward you. Everyone else, however, finds her to be an enormous bitch and tell you not to trust her. You still talk to her sometimes, but you tend to avoid her.

“I KNOW YOUR SOCIAL SKILLS HAVE BEEN STUNTED, BUT LET ME TRY TO GIVE YOU A LESSON. PEOPLE DON’T LIKE TO BE INSULTED, YOU SOCIOPATHIC WENCH.” Karkat shouts at her.

“Was I not supposed to like that, then?” she reacts, with a sinister calmness in her voice.

“YES. THAT WAS INTENDED TO CAUSE THE MAXIMUM AMOUNT OF EMOTIONAL DAMAGE POSSIBLE. THE LONGER YOU CRY YOURSELF TO SLEEP TONIGHT, THE BETTER.” You can’t tell if his tone is sarcastic or not.

Before Vriska can say anything, Karkat grabs his tray and stands up in a huff. He walks over to your table and seats himself between Jade and Dave.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ you think to yourself. You really hope he isn’t a permanent addition. You like your group dynamic the way it is.

“HELLO JADE. HELLO JADE’S FRIENDS WHO I AM VAGUELY ACQUAINTED WITH.”

“Dude, no need to be so shouty. We’re all chill here,” Dave tells him.

“Sorry. It’s a force of habit,” he replies.

“Oh, I know.” That earns Dave a strong punch on the arm.

“Well, I’m glad you’re sitting with us Karkat!” Jade distracts them. “These are my friends, Rose, John, and Dave,” she tells him, pointing to each of you as she says your names.

“Hi,” you all say kind of in unison.

“Yeah, I’ve met them. I hope you’re more pleasurable to sit with than that circus troupe.”

**== >**

The rest of lunch proceeds without incident, but you can’t help but feel worried. You’re plagued by thoughts that Karkat might make a better friend than you do. You know that’s ridiculous, but then again, maybe you don’t.

 

**John: Go home**

You spend the rest of the day worrying like that and barely focus on your classes. Luckily, not much usually happens on the first day.

While Dave is driving you home, you ask him, “Are you still gonna come over tonight?”

“Man, I wish. My bitch of an English teacher decided that the best thing to do on the first day was assign us an essay to ‘gauge our writing skills’. I don’t know how Jade likes her so much,” he tells you, sounding frustrated but never breaking his poker face.

When you get home, you immediately throw off your glasses and flop down on your bed. You feel exhausted, even though you’ve barely done anything today. You thought once you got home you would be able to relax and calm down, but instead you only feel worse. Now that you’re alone, your anxious thoughts are the only thing keeping you company.

_Dave is already getting disinterested in you. Won’t be long until they all ditch you. It’s not like you have anything interesting to offer anyways._

With your face in your pillow, you feel the pressure in your face, and you’re crying before you know it. It turns into a loud angry cry, because more than you feel sad, you feel frustrated.

You just don’t understand. You’ve been struggling with these kinds of thoughts for a while, but you’ve been mostly able to keep them in check. Dave has been your friend since you started middle school, and Rose and Jade have been your friends since eighth grade. Why would they suddenly get bored of you? But it doesn’t matter. It’s possible, and that’s all it takes for you.

You’re also crying in frustration because of how hard it’s been hitting you today. You’ve never had a first day like this before. But you just feel so threatened and so scared. You don’t exactly know why, and you can’t stop it.

After about 5 more minutes of crying and 10 minutes of just lying with your face in the pillow, you sit up. Your cheeks are completely covered in tears, and your nose is running. You get a tissue to blow your nose, and another to wipe off your face.

You need to talk to someone. Just being alone right now feels painful. You hope this isn’t a permanent thing. You do you talk to? Rose is good with feelings, but you’re concerned she’ll try to dig deeper than you’re willing right now. Dave seems like an obvious choice. He’s your absolute best bro, and your friendship can’t be beat, or at least you hope so. Despite that, you just don’t feel like talking to him right now. He bailed on you today and you need time to feel better about that. God, you’re such a wuss.

You decide to talk to Jade. She always knows how to cheer people up, and she’s a beacon of joy in your group of friends. You go to your computer and open Pesterchum.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 16:13 --

 

EB: hey  
GG: hi john!! :D  
GG: what’s up??  
EB: idk, not much.  
EB: how about you?  
EB: dave tells me you already have an essay to do.  
GG: yeah, but it was easy! i’ve already finished  
EB: cool.  
GG: do you have any homework yet?  
EB: no.  
GG: well that’s good...  
GG: is something wrong john??  
EB: uh..  
EB: why do you ask?  
GG: because you seem a lot less cheerful than normal!!!  
GG: all these one word responses!!  
EB: idk, i just don’t feel that good right now i guess. :/  
GG: :O why not???? :(  
EB: it’s nothing.  
GG: john........ don’t give me that excuse >:/  
GG: you know you can talk to me, right?  
GG: i’m not going to judge you or anything  
GG: <3  
EB: thanks jade.  
EB: i wish i could but,  
EB: nevermind i need to go.  
EB: thanks for talking jade.  
GG: wait, john!!!  
EB: <3

 

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 16:21 --

 

GG: :(

 

**Jade: Investigate**

Your name is Jade Harley, and you are suddenly very worried about John. He seemed really upset! You wish he would have just told you what’s wrong.

At first, you consider going to check up on him, but alas, your house is too far away from his house to walk (It’s far from pretty much anyone’s house, really. You like in the middle of a huge field.). You’d ask your Grandpa to take you there, but he’s still not home! You never know where he is when he’s not at home. He always just says he’s “adventuring”.

Unable to talk to John, you decide to consult your other friends to see if they know anything. Rose usually knows what’s going on with people.

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 16:25 --

 

GG: hey rose!!!  
TT: Hello, Jade.  
TT: What brings you to my office today?  
GG: office??? what if i just want to talk to you?? >:(  
TT: Just a hunch. What do you want to talk about?  
GG: well you’re right actually  
GG: it’s about john :(  
TT: Funny you should mention him.  
TT: I guess that confirms my suspicions, then.  
GG: suspicions??  
TT: John seemed off today. Like he was anxious about something.  
GG: oh no :(  
GG: he just messaged me, but he didn’t seem interested in talking  
GG: then when i asked him what was wrong and he suddenly said he needed to leave!!! :(  
TT: Interesting. Why would he contact you if he didn’t actually want to talk?  
TT: Perhaps he wanted to avoid thinking about what’s worrying him, and you bringing it up made him panic.  
GG: oh no!!!! :( i feel terrible now  
TT: Don’t worry about it, Jade. You had good intensions, and we don’t even know what this is about.  
TT: John will talk to us when he wants to; until then, we just have to try to be gentle.  
GG: ok :( i hope it’s temporary!!  
GG: i wanted to go check on him but my grandpa isn’t home!! :/  
TT: Likewise, my mother is, as always, too inebriated to operate anything with moving parts right now.  
TT: Unfortunately, Dave is the only one of the four of us to have his license.  
TT: If you really think John needs to be checked on, perhaps you should talk to him.  
GG: ok, thanks rose!!! :)  
TT: My office is always open.

 

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 16:36 --

 

You decide to follow Rose’s advice and talk to Dave. He is closer to John than anybody, after all.

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 16:38 --

 

GG: dave!!! i need your help  
TG: yo harley  
TG: whats up  
TG: superdave is here to save the dave  
TG: day  
TG: shit  
GG: lol!  
GG: enough distractions, this is serious!!  
TG: i’ve got my serious face on  
TG: all ready for this briefing  
GG: i’m worried about john :(  
TG: what kind of shenanigans is egbert up to now  
GG: not like that!!!  
GG: he seems really anxious about something :/  
GG: he talked to me earlier and he was really vague  
GG: then i asked him if something was wrong and he stopped talking to me  
GG: and rose said he seemed anxious at school  
TG: well damn  
TG: i didn’t notice anything but if our top psychologist confirmed it that’s some serious shit  
GG: you’re the only one with a license so i wanted to ask if you could check up on him???  
TG: id love to but i’ve got ms paints bitch ass essay to deal with  
TG: that’s the only reason i’m not already at egberts right now  
TG: we were gonna hang  
GG: dave, that essay is so easy! don’t be a wuss!!!  
GG: go cheer up your best bro!!  
TG: alright then ill see what i can do  
TG: superdave is limited in his abilities  
GG: he doesn’t sound very super then >:/  
TG: yeah whatever harley  
TG: well i gotta go save the world now  
TG: or egbert, same thing  
GG: aww :3  
TG: never use that face with me again  
GG: hehe ;)  
TG: shut up harley  
TG: peace  
GG: good luck dave!!!

 

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 16:50 --

 

**Superdave: Save John**

No need to call yourself Superdave. Dave is fine. You’re always super. It’s ironic because you have no superpowers. Score one for yourself.

You’re currently staring at your computer screen. Behind the Pesterchum window is your essay. Or what you have of it so far, which is just the word “The”. You have no idea what not to do at a stoplight, which is ironic because you’re one of the few juniors with a license. You give yourself another point on the irony meter.

Deciding you can always write your essay in first period (which is US Government, but the teacher rambles so much you hardly need to pay attention), you scrap what you have and message John

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:53 --

 

TG: sup bro  
EB: hi dave! :B  
TG: well that wasnt the response i was expecting  
EB: uh... me saying hi?  
TG: nevermind  
TG: ive been assigned an important mission  
TG: one that involves going to your house right now  
TG: see you in 10 minutes  
EB: what!  
EB: what about your essay?  
TG: who cares  
TG: hang time is hang time  
TG: brt  
EB: dave, wait!

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:53 --

 

EB: sigh.

 

**John: Feel uncomfortable**

Why should you? Dave is coming over, and now you can hang out like you were supposed to! Yet you do. Your regret about talking to Jade grows stronger. She probably told Dave about how you were acting, and now he feels like he needs to give you attention.

_Wow, what an attention seeker. Now Dave’s gonna have to rush his essay, all because of your needy ass. You’re a fuckup._

But it’s not even your fault! You didn’t mean for this to happen! How can you punish yourself for something of which you were barely even in control? Fuck yourself! Fuck your brain! In frustration, you throw the closest thing to yourself, which is your pillow. It ends up hitting a glass of water on your desk, spilling it onto the floor. God, you can’t do anything right. You get a towel and put it on the wet spot of your carpet.

Then you hear a knocking at the door. You quickly try to make yourself not look as miserable as you feel, but apparently you aren’t good at hiding your feelings, even from your less perceptive friends. because when you open the door, the first thing he says is “shit Egbert”.

“Hey Dave!” you greet him as excitedly as you can.

“Egbabe, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re faking a smile. Don’t worry, Dave is here to save the day,” he smirks as he lets himself in.

“Uh, um, what do you mean? Nothing’s wrong!” you lie, badly.

“Pick a movie.”

“What?”

“A movie. One you like.”

“Uh... Con Air?”

Dave rolls his eyes, or at least you can tell he is under his shades. “Whatever you say.”

“Dave, what’s this about?”

“I heard from a certain pair of ladies that you were having some trouble, and I couldn’t just leave my best bro like that.”

You were right. Shit. And that means Rose knows too. FUCK. You just kind of want to crawl under your covers and lie there until everyone forgets who you are.

“Dave, really, it’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but he’s not having any of it. Instead, he walks up to you and starts papping your face. “Shoosh.”

“Dave.”

“Shhhhhhoosh.”

“Why are you touching my face.”

“Because we are gonna sit on the couch, watch Con Air, and have the broest of brotalks whenever you stop being so stubborn,” he responds. You can hear the determination in his voice and you know it’s happening.

“I mean, you know I’m down for that I just, uh,” you pause, looking at the ground trying to think of the right words. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

He just shooshes you again. He’s already putting Con Air into the DVD player. He sprawls himself out on the couch and pats the seat next to him. You sigh and take it.

“Egdork, you couldn’t annoy me if you tried,” he gives you another smirk.

**== >**

Nicolas Cage always knows how to take you away from your problems. At least for a little while. At this point, Dave is laying down and you’re awkwardly laying in front/on top of him. You two have passed the awkwardness of brocuddles.

Of course, you cry when Nicolas Cage is reunited with his daughter Casey. You’re not sure if there exists a more emotional scene in all of cinema. Dave is rubbing your shoulder as you cry your eyes out. He’s pretty used to this by now, you figure.

And then the movie ends, and it’s just you, Dave, and your troubles. You’re not gonna lie, having Dave close to you feels really fucking nice. As much as you were worried about bothering him, you’re really glad he’s here now. It just kind of makes everything feel better for a little while. You wish you could just lie there with Dave forever. That sounded gayer than you intended, but Dave would understand. You hope.

“Thanks, Dave.” It’s quiet and muffled by the couch, and you have to force it out of yourself, but you say it.

“No prob. Now, you wanna tell Uncle Davey what’s been botherin’ ya?” he jokes, purposefully bringing out the Texan in his voice, which he carries from his time as a young child in Texas.

“Dave, we’re bros, right?” you ask him.

“Hell yeah,” he replies.

“The broest of bros?”

“No stronger bromance could be found on the western hemisphere. There could be a stronger one in Japan or something. Maybe.”

You giggle and gently slap his leg. “Good.”

“Is that what this was all about?” he probes.

“Uh, kinda? A little, I guess, but there’s more to it. I really don’t wanna talk about it right now,” you tell him.

“Okay.” He doesn’t sound upset or disappointed. At least there’s that.

_Like he would even care about it. Why would he want to be involved with your problems?_

SHUT UP! Without realizing it, you smack yourself in the forehead in anger.

“Woah! What was that?” Dave questions you.

“I dunno. Nothing.” Terrible, but you’re trying to avoid the subject.

“You don’t just smack yourself on purpose for nothing.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yeah. Alright.” Now he sounds kind of... sad? You’re not entirely sure. You feel worse. “Just don’t go hurting yourself, okay? I love you, John,” he reassures you.

You feel a warmth in your chest and a fluttering in your stomach. Most of it is from relief. Knowing that he likes you and wants you around. It feels stronger than that, though, but you can’t really tell why. You just know that it feels really fucking good to have him here right now. You feel like you might cry again, but you suppress it.

“I love you too, Dave,” you respond. “No homo.”

“One homo,” he retorts. You can’t help but giggle. Dave came out to you and your friends as bisexual freshman year. Rose said she “already figured that out”. You’ve always considered yourself as straight as a flagpole, but it never put a dent in your broship. You’re so lucky to have him as a friend.

“When do you have to go home?” you ask him.

“It’s not like Bro cares. Hell, I’ll probably just stay the night,” he tells you.

“What about your essay?”

“I already decided I’m gonna do it during gov. Not like I’d learn anything either way.”

“Well, if it’s really okay with you. Can we just stay here for a bit?”

“Whatever you want,” he replies. He puts his arm around you and pulls you closer until you’re basically spooning. It would look awkwardly romantic to anyone observing, but you know better. It’s not long before Dave falls asleep. Sometimes you think he’s almost as narcoleptic as Jade.

During those brocuddles, you feel better than you have in a long time.

 

 

**Dave: Wake up**

You wake up to the feeling of your shades being smooshed into your face, and something large and heavy pressed up next to you. You turn your head to fix your shades with your free hand and quickly realize that the large mass is John. Who you are spooning with. You gently shake him to see if he’s awake and get no response. He’s a pretty heavy sleeper.

Not wanting to disturb him by getting up, you decide to just lay there. Cuddling always feels nice, even though you’re not one to admit that kind of feeling. Striders gotta look tough. But John just fits so well, and you don’t really want to break it. You feel kind of warm and fuzzy in your chest, which is not a thing that really happens to Striders. It concerns you.

And then you start to think about it some more, and suddenly it _really_ concerns you. You start to freak out a little (internally, of course; your poker face never betrays your emotions, even when no one is watching). You don’t want to be headed down this road again. So you pull out your phone and reluctantly contact your favorite amateur psychologist, in hopes that she can snap some sense into you.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 20:34 --

 

TG: this is my least favorite thing to say to you but  
TG: i need your help  
TT: Hello, Dave.  
TT: What kind of help do you need?  
TG: we have a Freshman Year on our hands  
TT: That must be important to be capitalized.  
TT: But I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.  
TG: ok you probably do and just want me to say it  
TG: but you know  
TG: egbert  
TG: and some dumb shit involving one strider’s emotions  
TT: Ah, yes. Freshman Year.  
TG: yep it may or may not be back  
TG: its hard to tell under my intense emotion repression  
TT: Have you talked to John since we left school?  
TG: a bit more than that  
TG: i heard from jade he was sad or some shit so i went to his house  
TG: he seemed uncomfortable but then we watched con air  
TG: and now im here spooning a sleeping john  
TG: i cant even really move im typing with one hand  
TT: Oh my.  
TT: (My eyebrows are waggling intensely)  
TG: shut up Lalonde you know what i mean  
TT: Innuendos aside, is having John pressed up against you and leaving you to your own thoughts what brought you to me?  
TG: more or less  
TG: what do i do  
TG: i swear to god if i have to hide in my room for 2 months again ill do an acrobatic fucking pirouette off of my monolith of repressed emotions straight into a pile of shitty swords  
TG: and then hopefully bleed out  
TT: Well that was a descriptive and morbid picture.  
TT: But really, if you don’t want to hide from him again, you should do what I said the first time and just fucking tell him.  
TT: I only proposed it as an alternative because you were being a “stubborn little bitch” as Jade put it, and I didn’t want you to have a meltdown.  
TG: why did i even bring this up i knew you would say that  
TG: have you ever heard john talk about me  
TG: he loves to make sure everyone understands that our friendship is the most platonic of friendships and that he is a certified Not A Homosexual  
TT: Yes, I know.  
TT: It will still save you the need to push him away again.  
TT: And if John continues to be in a compromised emotional state, that’s probably the worst thing you could do to him.  
TG: great  
TG: so i guess all i really have is option c  
TG: ignore my feelings and continue to be friends with john until i have a meltdown, shave my entire body, and move to a nudist colony in wyoming  
TT: Sigh.  
TT: Dave, sometimes talking to you singlehandedly makes me want to discard any ambition I have for psychology.  
TG: is that a compliment  
TT: I don’t want you to hurt John. But I especially don’t want you to hurt yourself.  
TT: Which leaves you with one option. Even if he rejects you, he could never hate you for it, and putting it out in the open will help you feel better and move on. I promise.  
TG: lalonde you know me  
TG: i barely know what expressing emotions even means  
TT: You’re impossible, you know that?  
TG: love you too  
TT: Good luck.  
TT: If you hurt John, I’ll hurt you.  
TG: i will keep that in mind  
TG: shit hes waking up  
TG: later

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 20:45 --

 

You guess you should elaborate a little. You’ve known you were bisexual since you were eleven (having a super homo for a brother educated you on the concepts early), but you didn’t come out to your friends until freshman year. They were all cool with it.

But it wasn’t until you came out that you really understood it as part of your identity. You never really had any crushes before. Striders don’t have time for that stuff. But Striders usually keep their shit to themselves, too. You’re not even sure why you came out; it’s not that big of a deal. But at the time, it started burning a hole in your chest, so you had to say _something_.

What happened afterwards might be the cause of that. With your sexuality fully realized, your heart decided to betray you in the worst way possible. You fell heard over heels for none other than John Egbert. Your heels did an acrobatic fucking pirouette straight onto your heart. And that really, truly terrified you. John is the most “no homo” of no homo straighties you’ve ever met.

You told Rose and Jade about your problem, because fuck if you know how to handle that shit. You vetoed their obvious response of “just tell him” several times. Then Rose told you the best way to get over a crush is to distance yourself. Which was absolutely the last thing you wanted to do. But somehow it was still better than telling him. So you did.

You spent as much time as you could away from John. You didn’t share many classes due to your perceived differences in academic skill level. At lunch, you ate as quickly as you good, and then ditched until it was time for your next class.

Point is, you pretty much avoided John at school. You always rejected his offers to hang out. You often ignored his texts and pesters. When he asked for a response, you came up with the excuse that you were working intensely on an album of your mixes, and it required all your time and concentration. John, being the gullible doofus he is, believed it. He was excited to hear your finished work.

It was the most painful thing you’d ever done to yourself, but you held on with Strider willpower. You distracted yourself by challenging Bro to a lot more strifes (you did so many that you actually managed to beat Bro a few times near the end), explaining your enthusiasm to him by saying you wanted to hone in your skills and learn to defend yourself better. That earned you a pat on the back, probably one of the most loving gestures Bro has ever given you.

You actually did do some mixing, too, but just as a hobby, and you never really spent enough time on one project to finish it. There was also your photography; you spent hours photographing things in your room, as well as in the forest on the outskirts of your city. The rest of your time was spent sleeping. You took a lot of naps.

It was as depressing a time as it sounds. After two months, you could finally think about Egbert without feeling a pain in your chest, and when you talked to him again, everything felt right again. John bugged you for weeks to hear your mixes, but you dodged the subject and eventually he forgot.

**Dave: Back to the present**

As mentioned before, there is a waking John pressed up against you. You’re trying not to panic. He emits a groggy moan, and then surprises you by turning himself around. Hopefully, he can’t see the blush on your face. At least your shades are hiding your eyes. You’re going to die.

**John: Wake up**

You’ve just woken up on your couch. It’s very comfortable, but you feel like lying on your other side, so you flip yourself over. It’s then that you realize that Dave came over and watched a movie with you. You realize this because his face is about 2 inches from yours, and he’s staring right at you. You can tell from his reaction that he’s awake; you can feel him stiffen a little and the corners of his mouth turn downwards.

_Shit._

“Hey Dave,” you try to act nonchalant.

“Sup,” is all he says in return, but it’s not as calm as he normally says it. You try to think of something to break the silence.

“Are you still staying over?”

“What? Oh, uh, yeah, w-why wouldn’t I be?” Did he just stutter? Holy shit, you must be really freaking him out right now. Your first instinct is to quickly back away from him, which just ends up meaning you push yourself off the couch and fall onto the floor.

“Shit Egbert, you ok?” he leans over the couch and calls to you.

_Wow, you’re really fucking up today. Just abandon ship now before he has a chance to mock you._

_He wouldn’t mock me._

_You don’t know that._

As ridiculous as it sounds, the thought is at the forefront of your mind. You can’t know what Dave thinks of you. Maybe his friendliness is just a ruse. Your self-confidence is at such a low right now it’s not hard to worry about.

“Totally fine.” You quickly stand up. Your dad then walks into the room. You have no idea when he came home from work.

“I see you fellows are up now. I heard a noise; is everything alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, everything’s fine dad. I, uh, gotta do some homework; Dave you can do whatever, chill; it’s, uh, gonna be kinda boring so you don’t have to, um, stay, uh, if you don’t want to...” Halfway through saying that, you’re already going up the stairs, and by the time you finish, you’re almost to your room and you’re not sure if they can even hear you anymore. Whatever.

You don’t actually have any homework. Seriously, who has homework on the first day of school? You just needed an escape. You shut the door and crawl under the covers, pulling them over your head. You just want to stew in your insecurities in peace. Yeah. That makes sense.

You secretly hope Dave comes in to knock some sense into you, because you sure can’t. You want him here, and yet you can’t bear for him to see you right now. Like this. Pathetic. When did you become fucked up like this?

He never does. Eventually, you go downstairs and don’t see him anywhere. His car is gone.

_Told you._

_  
_

**== >**

Your name is Dave Strider and what the fuck. John just totally flipped out at your presence. He tried to not make it obvious with some bullshit about homework, but John is always obvious. You could read him like an open book even if you weren’t his best friend. He really seemed to want to get away from you, though. You’re now awkwardly left alone with John’s dad.

“Hey Mr. E,” you mumble, looking at the ground rather than at him.

He looked perplexed from John’s freak-out, but then answers you. “Hello Dave. I made cake,” he says as he walks back into the kitchen. He always makes cake. You don’t think you can stomach it right now.

You really want to go upstairs and clear things up, but you’re currently in the state of being a giant weenie. Yep, the United States just got a new state and its population is one Dave Strider. So instead, you opt to just go home and sulk, even though you were planning to stay the night. As you flop onto your bed, you feel like you’re going to throw up. You don’t cry, though. You’re not that far gone yet. And it’s not as if this one event has completely fucked up your friendship. Probably.

**== >**

Tonight is just a night for being a miserable weenie. Your name is John Egbert, and what the fuck is wrong with you. Why are you so freaked out by Dave. It doesn’t make sense. Your whole mind doesn’t make sense. No, instead it’s on a mission to make you hate yourself as much as possible. Amazing.

_Way to push Dave away, you fucking idiot. Better this way though, instead of pushing him away with how fucking annoying you are. Seriously, you know he hates Con Air._

You weren’t even the one who wanted to watch a movie; Dave kind of forced it upon you. But that doesn’t seem to matter to you. That’s just how this whole deal works. It seemed like a nice gesture at the time, but of course you ruin everything. Even though it’s only about nine o’clock, you force yourself to sleep. Hopefully today was just a bad day for you.

**== >**

You wake up and instantly feel a wave of anxiety in your stomach. An amazing start. Dave is driving you to school. It wasn’t hard to beg Dave for rides during the summer, but now that he’s actually doing it, you feel really shitty. You wonder how annoying it is for him to have to leave early to pick your ass up. He didn’t even want to do it at first. You don’t even need him; you can just take the bus, even if you don’t like it. You suddenly wonder how fucking selfish you are.

Piled with guilt over this and the fact that you basically kicked Dave out of your house yesterday, you message him.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 05:58 --

 

EB: hey dave.  
EB: i guess i just wanted to say sorry about yesterday.  
EB: i was just being shit i guess.  
EB: you don’t have to pick me up today.

 

He takes a while to respond, presumably because he hasn’t woken up yet.

TG: wait what  
TG: you didn’t do anything wrong  
TG: and why shouldn’t i pick who up  
TG: who’s going to take you the school bus  
EB: yeah i guess.  
TG: why would you choose to ride in that traveling hellhouse rather than my luxury vehicle  
EB: i just feel bad that you have to take time out of your morning to pick me up.  
EB: and i don’t like that feeling so i’ll just deal with it i guess.  
TG: egbert  
TG: do you understand what a friend is  
TG: not just a friend but a bro  
TG: bro in italics  
TG: im coming to pick you up  
TG: this is not negotiable  
TG: because i am the perfect southern gentlebro  
TG: a real term that i am coining now  
EB: uh, okay, if you want to...  
TG: see you in 15 egbabe

 

You spend perhaps a solid minute just reading over what Dave said. He called you his bro. And he didn’t seem upset at all. You wonder how you could have ever even doubted that he likes you. As a friend. Feeling a surge of confidence, you send him one last message

EB: <3  
TG: <3

 

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 06:32 --

 

You stare at the text heart he sent you. It makes you feel really, really good. It probably has more of an effect on you than it should, but all you care about is that Dave genuinely wants you around. He’s not annoyed by you. He really considers you his best friend. All that you feel from one text heart. You hold on to that feeling of reassurance, because you don’t know how long it’s going to last. But at this moment, it’s one of the best feelings you’ve had in a while.

 

 

**Dave: Back to John’s house**

You wake up trying to forget the bad events of yesterday. Having the mastery of repression that you do, it mostly works. After dealing with John’s bullshit about not wanting to bother you (he never could if he tried), you get ready for your second day of school and leave for his house.

“Sup,” you greet him as he gets in the passenger seat. Fuck, there go your hopes of your relapse being temporary. You don’t know what he did, but he looks really cute this morning. There’s a good chance that nothing is even different and you’re just a sucker.

“Hi Dave. Thanks,” he says meekly, only making eye contact for a second before looking away. It’s like he’s a fucking anime schoolgirl, goddamn. You know Bro would get a kick out of that,

“For what?” you ask him as you pull out of his driveway.

“Just, uh, thanks.” He really looks like there’s something he’s keeping to himself, but you don’t push it. Halfway through the ride, he suddenly speaks.

“I love you, Dave.”

Your heart stops for a hot second before you realize he doesn’t mean it quite the way you want him to. But the way he says it, it sounds more genuine than any other time he’s said it before. It also sounds sadder. He’s not looking at you, but rather out the window, with his chin resting in his hand.

You, Dave Strider, the perfect southern gentlebro, cannot let this stand. You retract your previous decision and decide to push the issue.

“Does all this have to do with how you were feeling yesterday?”

“Huh?” is all he responds with.

“All of us including you know that something was wrong with you yesterday. That’s why I came over. And now you’re worried that you bother me or I don’t like you or something. That’s the message I’m getting. And I wanna know if this is related to that,” you start confidently, but by the end you’re down to a mumble. You tend to do that a lot.

“Maybe? I guess,” he responds with uncertainty.

“Wanna talk about it now?”

“Eventually,” he states simply, as you arrive at school. You park the car in the parking lot.

“I love you, bro. Don’t ever think that I don’t. I love you more than you know.” Shit, did you really say that out loud? John sure knows how to make you mess up your own image.

“Thanks bro. I, uh, I really needed that.” He glances at you briefly as he’s getting out of the car. You think you see a hint of a smile on his face. Score one for Dave Strider.

**== >**

Your name is John Egbert and you are in intense thought as you walk towards your first class. You keep playing your exchange with Dave this morning over and over in your head, and you’re not sure how to feel. No matter how many times he tries to convince you that you haven’t fucked up, it never lasts. As soon as you think about it, you fall right back into the pit of guilt. It’s like you constantly need someone to tell you that you aren’t a burden before you’ll believe them. And you can’t stand it.

_How attention seeking can you get?_

You walk into Calculus and hesitantly sit next to Rose again, who, of course, is already here.

“Hello, John,” she greets without looking away from her knitting.

“Hey, Rose. Do you mind if I sit here?” She turns to look at you and you instantly regret asking that question.

_What kind of stupid question is that? You sat here yesterday. She’s your friend, somehow, you stupid fuck._

You want to look away from her, but you can’t. Instead you just kind of avoid eye contact with her. You know the motions of her face right now, the way she gets when she’s trying to psychoanalyze someone on the spot. You see confusion, reasoning, and then, recognition. Oh boy.

“Why do you ask, John?” she stares at you expectantly.

“Just, uh, though I’d be polite, I guess,” you lie.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” Rose is too perceptive for that, and she has a tendency to skip straight to the matter of things. You meet her eyes again.

“Uh, I don’t know. It’s always been there on some level, I guess. But it’s never been this bad. I don’t know what’s happening.” You figure there’s no point in trying to hide anything. She probably has this whole conversation planned out already. Maybe this will be helpful.

She does a subtle nod, looking away for a moment before focusing back on you.

“So, why did you ask if I wanted you to sit next to me? Were you afraid of something?”

“Uh, I guess,” you respond, trying to figure out how to word your answer. You’re not even sure how to explain it, but you give it your best shot.

“I guess, um, I was afraid you were too nice to tell me, uh, tell me that you... wanted me to leave you alone.” You mumble that last part rather quickly, realizing how embarrassing it is to say out loud.

“But what led you to that assumption? We’ve been friends for three years, John; I hope I haven’t done anything to make you think otherwise.”

And now you feel guilty again. You’re going to hurt everyone you care about if you keep up with your paranoid behavior. But it’s not as if you can do much to help it. That frustrates you.

“No no no, Rose, you’re fine. It’s just me. I’ve been afraid of everything I do, lately. I feel like I could fuck up everything with anyone at any moment.” You’re starting to feel that burning sensation in your face, the one you get when you feel like you might cry. You do your best to suppress any tears.

“They have a name for that,” she replies. You raise your eyebrows. “Social anxiety.”

It’s strangely comforting, having your fears be given a name. It feels... legitimizing, almost.

“If someone is constantly plagued by it, it’s called social anxiety disorder. It’s one of the most common anxiety disorders. Do you think this could apply to you, John?” she postulates.

All of this is sudden to you; you need more time to think about it.

“Can we talk about this later?”

“Sure, John. Class is about to start anyways. But we will come back to it. Don’t forget.” Rose gives you a sly grin.

“Yeah.”

**== >**

Karkat sits at your lunch table again. He and Dave have an animated argument about the merits of romcoms, wherein he unsurprisingly spends most of his time shouting.

His presence gives you an anxious pit in your stomach. You don’t eat much.

 

 

**John: Think about it**

Once you get home, you spend a lot of time thinking about what Rose told you. You look up social anxiety disorder on the internet, and wow, it’s like Wikipedia has read your mind. You don’t have that much doubt after that, but it still doesn’t solve the problem. You guess you should talk to Rose again.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 16:44 --

 

EB: i think you were right.  
TT: Is this concerning what we discussed this morning?  
EB: yeah.  
EB: after i looked it up on the internet it was kind of undeniable.  
EB: the article described me way too well.  
TT: The Internet, always a helpful resource.  
EB: it really is though.  
TT: I know, I wasn’t being sarcastic.  
TT: But now that we’ve passed the diagnostic hurdle, what do you think?  
EB: well i guess  
EB: it’s nice to know that it’s not uncommon to feel this way.  
EB: but it still sucks, and there’s not much i can really do about it.  
TT: Therapy is an option.  
EB: rose i think we are a bit too close for you to therapize me!  
TT: I don’t think that’s a real word.  
TT: But I was suggesting professional therapy.  
EB: but that would involve talking to a stranger.  
EB: when i’m basically afraid of people.  
EB: do you see the problem?  
TT: Yes, I understand that.  
TT: But it really would be good for you, I promise.  
EB: i trust you rose.  
EB: but i really can’t right now.  
EB: i’m sorry.  
TT: There’s nothing to be ashamed of, John.  
TT: Just remember that all of us are here for you.  
EB: yeah. thanks, really. :B  
EB: i gotta go now, though.  
TT: I’ll see you later, John.

 

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 16:55 --

 

You don’t really have anywhere to go; you just need more time alone to think. You don’t know what to do. You have a better idea of what’s wrong now, but there doesn’t seem to be a solution. Or at least one you’re willing to try. Honestly, you’re content with just wallowing alone in your misery. Well, content isn’t really the right word, but it’s all you feel like doing. You consider asking Dave to hang out to distract yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. At least you know why.

_Coward._

Yeah, you don’t really feel any better.

**== >**

Your name is Dave Strider and boy do you feel like a fucking anime schoolgirl right now. John has wormed his way right back into your heart and it’s driving you crazy. You want to message him and ask to hang out again, but after yesterday and considering your current feelings, you’re too much of a pansy to do so. You’ve already talked about it to Rose, and you’d really not dive back into that conversation. So you do something different.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 16:33 --

 

TG: hey karkles  
CG: WHO IN THE EVERLOVING FUCK ARE YOU, AND WHY ARE YOU MESSAGING ME, AND CALLING ME THAT ATROCIOUS NAME?  
TG: ill give you a hint  
TG: romcoms are for chumps  
CG: OH, IT MAKES PERFECT SENSE NOW. THE PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION OF A SACK OF SHAME GLOBES IN SHADES HAS ARRIVED TO PULL ME DOWN TO THE NEXT RING OF HELL.  
CG: I LOOK FORWARD TO THE MISFORTUNES THIS NEXT RUNG BRINGS. MAY THEY BE WORSE THAN THE HELL I’M LIVING IN NOW.  
TG: what the fuck are you talking about  
TG: shame globes  
TG: wtf  
TG: ok this is not time for your issues  
CG: BY MESSAGING ME, YOU ACCEPT ALL OF MY ISSUES THAT I MAY FLING AT YOU FROM THE TREBUCHET OF MY ENDLESS PIT OF DESPAIR.  
TG: jesus Christ  
CG: HOW DID YOU EVEN GET MY CHUMHANDLE, YOU CREEP?  
TG: one of your friends gave it to me  
TG: the weird blind one who smells people???  
TG: whats up with that  
CG: I’LL MAKE SURE TO GIVE TEREZI THE PROPER END OF HER LIFE TOMORROW.  
TG: chill  
TG: i just wanted to ask you something  
CG: SINCE MY TIME OR SANITY MEANS NOTHING TO YOU, I HEREBY CONCEDE TO YOU. ASK AWAY, AND MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL.  
TG: whats your stance on guys  
CG: WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?  
TG: you know  
TG: since youre a self-titled Romance Expert  
TG: you must have an opinion  
CG: STRIDER, I COULDN’T GIVE LESS OF A FUCK ABOUT GENDER WHEN IT COMES TO ROMANCE.  
TG: so youre pan then  
CG: IF I CARED ENOUGH TO DESCRIBE MY ROMANTIC INCLANATIONS WITH A STUPID WORD, THAT ONE WOULD PROBABLY BE IT.  
TG: ok well anyways  
TG: what do you think about john  
CG: WHAT?  
CG: I HAVEN’T HAD MANY DIRECT INTERACTIONS WITH HIM, BUT HE SEEMS OK, FOR A PERSON.  
CG: HE’S QUIET DURING LUNCH SO HE CURRENTLY HAS MORE POINTS THAN YOU, YOU PRICK.  
TG: how many points are we talking here  
CG: IF EVERY ATOM IN THE UNIVERSE WERE CONVERTED INTO THE NUMBER 9, THAT WOULD BE APPROXIMATELY THE POINT LEAD HE HAS OVER YOU.  
CG: BUT WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH MY ATTRACTIONS?  
CG: ARE YOU TRYING TO SET ME UP WITH JOHN, YOU SICK FUCK?  
TG: ok no im doing the opposite of that  
TG: why do i have a boner for john  
TG: oops you*  
TG: FUCK  
CG: ARE YOU TRYING TO SET *YOURSELF* UP WITH JOHN?  
TG: ...  
TG: uh  
CG: WAIT, WAS I RIGHT?  
CG: I WAS JUST JOKING ABOUT YOUR HILARIOUS BLUNDER.  
CG: BUT THIS IS GREAT.  
CG: SEE, I REALLY AM A ROMANTIC EXPERT  
TG: ok im done with this conversation now  
CG: NO, I WANT TO KNOW WHERE THIS WAS GOING  
CG: IT JUST GOT GOOD  
TG: it was going nowhere  
TG: so bye  
TG: this never happened especially to john so you tell him and youll be talking to the blade of a shitty sword next  
CG: AS ANNOYING AS YOU ARE, I CAN’T PASS UP THE OPPORTUNITY FOR OVERCOMPLICATED ROMANTIC DRAMA.  
CG: SO I WILL NOT TELL HIM ANYTHING, AND WATCH YOU AGONIZE OVER YOUR OWN SOCIAL INABILITY INSTEAD

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 17:04 --

 

CG: YOU FUCK RIGHT BACK OVER HERE.

 

Well fuck. At least he said he wouldn’t say anything. Why did you even message him? You were hoping to get a fresh opinion, you guess, but then you got too nervous to talk about it, fucked up, and ran away. Metaphorically. You’re not really better off than you were before.

You distract yourself for most of the rest of the day with shitty skating games on Bro’s Xbox.

 

 

**John: Fast forward**

Your name is John Egbert, and today is Friday. Which means you and Dave are having a sleepover to celebrate the end of the first week of school. Really, you guys have sleepovers all the time, but you always like to come up with justifications for them. It makes them legitimate.

The week continued to be shitty, but with the stress of school lifted for a while, you feel a bit better. Enough to actually be excited! At this point, that almost deserves a celebration in itself. What an amazing life you lead.

When Dave arrives, you have a sudden impulse to give him a big hug. So you do. He stiffens for a second, but then hugs you back just as strongly. The closeness is really comforting, and you almost don’t want to let go.

You do, though, and you both go the living games and rush for the first controller. Dave always wins that contest. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to move as fast as he does. You try to invoke the “it’s my house” rule, but he’s having none of that.

The video games go on as normal. Dave smokes you at Halo. You smoke Dave at Mario Kart. You both smoke some zombies in Left 4 Dead. You then play Mario Party, which never ends well. You both always end up trying to mess each other up, and you almost get in a physical fight. Dave is kind of weird about it though; at one point you jokingly started rubbing his inner thigh during a minigame. Then he popped a boner. He was incredibly sheepish for the rest of the game. You won that round.

Your Dad orders you pizza for dinner, and you take it up to your room to chill. You talk about a variety of subjects and just generally had a great fucking time. Eventually, you decide to at least attempt to go to sleep. Your bed is big enough to fit the both of you, and you have long since passed the awkwardness of sharing the bed. Besides, cuddling feels nice and you don’t care what anyone has to say about that. Well, you kind of do, but they can’t see you. So there.

Once you and Dave are situated under the covers, you get a devilish grin on your face. You hold your hands right by his sides below his ribcage.

“Hey Dave,” you giggle, looking at his face. You can’t hold back your grin.

“What’s that look for?” he regards you with suspicion. Your bedside lamp is still on, and Dave isn’t wearing his shades now, so you can see the red of his eyes. You’ve always thought they were cool (and kind of pretty, but you’ve never said that). He’s not really impressed by them, but he wears his shades for both ironic purposes and so that “people don’t stop me every fucking second to ask about [his] eyes”.

You tickle his sides with full force, and Dave lets out a strange combination between a yelp and a shriek. He desperately tries to get away from you and simultaneously grabs your arms, pulling them with full force. This combination ends up with you rolling on top of him, your arms held by his head. You’re still giggling, and Dave is glaring at you.

You calm down and realize how close your faces are. Your foreheads are touching. Man, if this were a movie, this would be the part where you two suddenly break into a passionate kiss. Good thing this isn’t. You’re pretty sure kissing a boy isn’t a thing you would do anyways, especially your best friend.

You then also realize that you’re both staring into each other’s eyes. Dave’s expression changes, and it seems... sadder? He looks away for a second before looking back at you.

“I love you, too.”

You’re stunned for a second. That’s not really anything close to what you expected.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“Tuesday morning, you said it to me. I’m just paying you back.”

“Oh,” you reply. You’re still not really sure why this came up now, but it still feels nice. “Thanks,” you smile.

“Do you, um, do you... what was that all about, anyway?” You’re surprised by how nervous Dave sounds asking that question. He’s usually confident in what he says. “Too cool to be a stuttering nerd.”

“What, I can’t say I love you? Cause it’s true,” you dodge the question.

“You know what I mean. You didn’t sound happy when you said it. And that morning you were basically guilt tripping me into _not_ picking you up, which you never really explained,” he says.

Fuck, that hurt hard enough that you might have actually flinched. You never really considered how Dave might have taken it when you said that stuff, and it just makes you feel that much worse. Suddenly the stress of the whole comes pouring back down onto you. Having to constantly worry about whether Jade and Rose, but especially Dave think of you. Constantly worrying whether you fucked up with anyone you’ve interacted with in any way. Being so worried about your image that you collapse when you get home. You can’t take all of it at once. You crack.

Before you know it, you’ve fully collapsed onto Dave’s body and tears are streaming down your face. Your face is in the pillow by Dave’s face and you’re full on sobbing. No matter what, you just can’t stop bawling.

“Shit,” you hear Dave say. “You alright? Well, fuck, of course you’re not... I just... did I... shit,” he starts mumbling.

“I’m s-so s-s-sorry,” you choke out between sobs. With every sob you only feel worse.

“Sorry about what? You haven’t done anything wrong, Egbabe. You never have,” Dave tries to console you.

“T-that’s now how it feels. That’s n-n-never how it feels!” By the end you’re basically screaming, as if saying it louder will let out more frustration. Maybe it does. You’re glad being a heavy sleeper runs in your family; you really don’t want your dad walking in on this.

“I just... don’t understand. I’ve been trying to understand what’s been bothering me, but you never let me. I just want to help you. I love you so fucking much, John.” You can tell he’s trying not to cry too, which only makes you feel worse. The list is virtually never-ending.

“But that’s the thing! I never wanted you to have to be involved with my stupid problems! They’re so stupid. They shouldn’t even be problems. But they are! And they won’t go away! And I don’t want anyone else to be burdened by it. You don’t deserve it.” Your crying calms a bit with your rant, but it doesn’t stop. At least you’re not loudly sobbing anymore.

“But I _want_ to be involved with your problems. That’s what friends are for, dumpass. That’s what _I’m_ here for. I promise you, Egbert, I will always be here for you. You can’t drive me away.” You hear him chuckle at that last remark, but he’s still sniffling.

“But that’s the problem! You say that, Rose says that, Jade says that, and I want to believe you. I really try to. But I can’t! It’s like my brain just... won’t let me! You could tell me every day for the rest of my life, but every day 5 minutes later I still wouldn’t believe it. It’s like I’m broken. I want to believe you! I want to know that you’ll always be my friend. I want to know that you’ll always be there for me. But I can’t! I hate it! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it...” you repeat it until it becomes a gentle chant murmured into Dave’s neck. He’s started stroking your hair and rubbing your back, trying to comfort you. You can tell he’s definitely crying too now, but you can’t bear to look at him. You don’t think you stop crying before you pass out.

 

 

**Dave: Process emotional turmoil**

This is something you aren’t built to do very well. Bro was never really there for you in the emotional department. Or really the being there for you department, either. Either way, you have a tendency to bottle up your bad emotions. The pinnacle of mental health, you are. But there’s no escaping it now. You’ve just consoled a hysterical John, who’s now asleep, in what is probably one of the saddest scenes you’ve ever encountered. Like, sad enough that you started crying too.

It probably doesn’t help that you’re pretty much totally infatuated with the dork still on top of you. The dork who just admitted to you how unhappy he is. You want to tell him that you could make him happy. You want him to know that you would spend the rest of your life making him happy. But you can’t, because you care about him too much. The contradiction seems obvious, but it means you care about him too much to put your friendship in any risk. You could come out with something better, or with your friendship damaged. You aren’t brave enough to risk it.

You gently roll John to your side. He’s passed out, but his face is still wet with tears. You dry them off with your t-shirt, and you want to scream his face is so adorable. Your head is so fogged up with feelings that you need to talk to someone. You’re not about to tell Rose about what just happened, because it worries you how she would respond. You’re not really in for her meddling right now. So you pick the more neutral option.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GC] at 01:43 --

 

TG: jade please tell me you’re awake  
GG: hi dave!!!  
GG: what’s up?  
GG: aren’t you supposed to be hanging out with john right now??  
TG: i am  
TG: or i was  
TG: until egbert basically had a mental breakdown and cried until he passed out  
TG: wow that makes him sound really pathetic but its really serious and idk wtf how to deal with it  
GG: mental breakdown???? :O  
GG: about what??  
TG: well uh  
TG: its kind of hard to explain im not even really sure  
TG: but basically he feels like we all hate him?  
GG: what!!!!!  
GG: how could he think that!!  
TG: idk but i told him of course we like you we couldn’t hate you  
TG: im basically in love with you i could never hate you  
TG: except i didn’t say that because im a little bitch  
TG: getting that part in before you can  
GG: >:O  
GG: its true though so i get to call you a little bitch anyways  
GG: but thats not important right now!!  
GG: did he say anything else???  
TG: well after i tried to reassure him  
TG: he basically broke down and said that he couldnt believe me even though he wanted to  
TG: and its been driving him crazy which explains his recent behavior  
TG: and then some stupid stuff about him thinking hes broken and not wanting me to have to deal with problems  
TG: it’s the saddest thing i ever experienced i actually cried  
TG: yes harley the first documented case of Strider Tears  
GG: :O!  
TG: record that in your adventure log  
GG: dave that sounds horrible :(((  
GG: i feel so bad for john!!  
GG: what do we do???  
TG: thats the thing i dont know  
TG: i dont know how to make him understand that i love him  
TG: i mean we love him  
GG: aww :3  
TG: harley what did i tell you about that face  
GG: sorry >:|  
GG: maybe you should tell him about your feelings!!! :)  
TG: this is not the discussion for this harley  
TG: thats a whole nother can of worms  
TG: the can is currently in a warehouse in alabama waiting to be shipped here  
TG: its gonna take a while  
GG: jeez dave you sure are stubborn!!!  
GG: doesnt making john happy come first?? having a crush on him and all  
TG: yes thats why i cant tell him  
GG: ...  
GG: i will never understand you  
GG: but ok  
GG: ill see what i can do  
GG: maybe ill go visit i dont get to see him outside of school much  
TG: thats because you live in some bumfuck field 10 miles away and our school is the closest thing to civilization  
GG: yes i understand that  
GG: i do live there  
GG: but i can see if i can convince grandpa to take me!!  
GG: if not ill force you to drive me  
TG: woah now  
GG: no woahs  
GG: where doing this  
GG: where making this happen  
TG: you cant use my own memes again me  
GG: i can and i did!! >:)  
TG: ok were getting off topic  
TG: im with egbert and youre gonna come over and were gonna have a fun time forcing our love onto him  
GG: sounds fun!!! :)  
GG: what about rose?? :o  
TG: well im still a bit worried about how shell handle the knowledge of his breakdown  
TG: so maybe dont tell her all about it just let her know were trying to cheer up egbert  
TG: she probably knows everything thats wrong with him anyways  
GG: dave, im not sure thats such a good idea  
GG: shes probably the best person to help him!  
GG: but whatever you say!!  
TG: good ok were all gonna have a fun time together  
GG: :D  
TG: now im exhausted from this mess and i need to pass out  
TG: later harleu  
GG: bye dave!!!

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GC] at 02:02 --

 

You turn to face John. Now that he’s asleep, he looks more peaceful, and it makes you feel fuzzy in your chest. You pull him in so that is head is under your chin and start gently rubbing his back. Maybe you can make his dreams good, at least. You kiss the top of his head and promptly fall asleep.

**John: Wake up**

You wake up to something in your face. Looking up, you see Dave’s sleeping face and realize he’s basically hugging you. Then you remember last night. Suddenly, you feel so embarrassed you want to die and never have to face Dave again. You try to be stealthy when you remove yourself from his arms, but Dave has basically been trained in the art of light sleeping. As you get up, he squints his eyes open.

“Mm... Eglover... come back,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleepiness.

“That one doesn’t even work,” you chuckle, and then get nervous.

“I... uh, have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back.” You walk out of the room as fast as you can without running, and you don’t even look at Dave. You basically poured your entire heart out to him last night, and it makes you feel vulnerable. You never wanted him to see you like that. To see you unable to cope with your own bullshit. You go downstairs and consider eating breakfast, but you don’t feel like you can eat right now.

Instead, you just sit at the table and collapse onto it, and just stay there. Soon after, you hear someone coming down the steps, and then Dave walks into the room. Fuck, you were hoping he would go back to sleep. You keep your head down so you don’t have to face him. You hear him sit down next to you. Then he starts rubbing circles in your back, his side close to yours.

“Mornin’,” he says, still groggy, and his Texas roots are more obvious when he’s just woken up. You don’t respond.

“Whatcha doin’ down here?”

“Dying,” you quip. You can’t see his facial expressions, but you can feel changes in his hand movements. He moves his hand up and starts playing with your hair.

“I, um... I want to uh, help you,” he says gently.

“Help me with what?” You can’t help but have some contempt in your voice. The last thing you want is to be pitied. It makes you feel fucking stupid.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in your head. I want you to know that all of us love you. And I’m gonna say it even if you can’t believe it. Cause it’s true.”

“Stop.” You’re feeling even angrier now. He’s trying to help you and all you can do is feel angry about it. Angry because you don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want to be coddled like some sad child. You just want to be left alone. But at the same time, you don’t, because you need someone with you here, or you’ll just feel worse. Your mind is at an endless war. Any logic is thrown out the window. Even if you want to, you can’t stop your emotions from controlling your actions. Even when you know it’s happening, you can’t stop.

It’s like being a marionette, and your emotions are the puppeteer.

“Please leave me alone,” you say in a voice that’s both disgruntled and pleading.

“I, uh... okay. Okay.” Dave doesn’t say anything after that, but you never hear him get up. It’s a reasonable compromise, you guess.

Eventually you lift your head and look at him. You hope your expression isn’t as miserable as you feel.

“Do you want to hang out with Jade and Rose today?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you respond, trying not to sound displeased. Part of you just really wants to be alone. But you love hanging out with all your friends, and you don’t want to pass it up either. You figure it’s better for you to be with other people anyways.

“Good, cause I already told Jade to come.” You look at Dave suspiciously.

“When did this happen?” you ask.

“While you were asleep.”

“Uh... okay. Cool. What about Rose?”

“Haven’t asked her yet. You can go ahead and ask.”

“Kay,” you sigh as you pull out your phone and open Pesterchum.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 10:25 --

 

EB: would you like to accompany me jade and dave in some shenanigans today  
TT: What kind of shenanigans?  
EB: who knows  
EB: this is kind of on the spot  
TT: I was going to try to be a responsible student today and do my homework today, but that sounds like a better idea.  
TT: I’m in.  
EB: oh you dont have to come if you need to do work  
TT: John, I just said I want to come.  
TT: Don’t worry about it.  
TT: How are you feeling, by the way?  
EB: ok i guess  
EB: nothing concerning definitely  
TT: I’m going to choose to ignore how defensive that sounded for now.  
TT: When are these shenanigans?  
EB: uh  
EB: good question  
EB: one sec

 

“Dave, what time?”

“Uh, dunno. Whenever Jade is coming.”

EB: dunno really  
EB: talk to jade about it i guess  
TT: Alright.  
TT: I’ll see you later, John.  
TT: Feel better.  
EB: bye rose

 

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 10:32 --

 

You choose not to acknowledge her last message. You hate how she can see right through you, and you don’t want to give her the satisfaction. Rose wouldn’t be malicious about it, but you just... don’t want anyone to know how you feel right now. Because you feel pathetic, and you sure as hell hope you don’t appear that way. You were already pretty pathetic in front of Dave last night, though. You wish you could forget about that. At least then you wouldn’t feel like shit whenever Dave looked at you.

Jade tells you that her and Rose will be there at around 1 PM, so you still have a couple hours to kill. You decide to watch Con Air, because fuck if you don’t need something to cheer yourself up right now. Dave is still here, though, and he always has shit to talk about Con Air. Except this time he doesn’t. You curl up on the couch, and he just sits beside you. Now you can definitely tell that he’s feeling sorry for you, and you don’t like it.

“Not gonna say anything?” you ask to him, trying your best not to sound condescending.

“What can I say that I haven’t said before? Your love for Nicolas Cage is an immutable fact, and not even I can save you from it,” he tries to joke.

“Not even about Nic Cage’s ‘ugly mug’? It’s not like unoriginality has ever stopped you before.”

“I guess,” he chuckles

“I, uh, I, um...” You start to say something but then it suddenly scares you, so you stop.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing.”

“Just tell me, Egbert.”

“I, um, I know what you’re doing Dave, and I don’t want you too,” you say quietly, almost hoping he doesn’t hear it.

“What do you mean?” his tone changes, but he doesn’t sound angry.

“I’ve been trying to avoid talking about what happened last night, but I guess I have to. I don’t want you to treat me differently because of it. Please don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t want to be pitied.” You start out confidently, but diminish back into a mumble by the end.

“I’m not pitying you, Egdork. I just want you to feel okay. I want you to be sure that I lo–” you cut him off.

“Will you stop!” You’ve raised your voice now, and there’s a strange feeling coming over you. It’s like anger, but not the anger you’re used to. You’re not mad at Dave. You want Dave to be mad at you. You want him to acknowledge how terrible you are. You just want him to leave for good, because you feel like eventually he will anyways and you might as well get it over with. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“I already told you that that’s not going to help. Stop trying to act like you can fucking save me, because you can’t, and it’s just annoying. Honestly, forget about everything I said. You’re better off not knowing.”

“John...” Shit, he almost never uses your first name. “I’m sorry.” He looks dejected, but it doesn’t make you any less irritated.

“You’re still doing it! Every time you give me that fucking sad look, it makes me feel like shit. You’re not helping me, and you sure as hell aren’t helping yourself, and it’s pissing me off. You don’t need to fucking coddle me. Just leave me the fuck alone.” Your tone is even starting to scare you now, but at the same time it feels exhilarating in a fucked-up masochistic way.

Dave doesn’t respond; he just gets up and walks out of the room. You don’t hear him leave, though. Well, you got what you wanted. You drove Dave away. Of course, that doesn’t actually make you feel better. Once you cool down, you want to apologize to him, but somehow you’re too proud to say it. You don’t want him to see any weakness in you, and it makes you the weakest person in the fucking world. Instead you just go to your go-to of crying like a little bitch. Your dad sees you and asks you what’s wrong, but you just blame it on the emotion of the movie. Con Air always makes you cry, so it’s a pretty good excuse.

You ask your dad where Dave is, and he tells you he’s “still” sleeping in your room. You wonder if Dave actually went back to sleep, or if he was just hiding from your dad. At least, it comforts you to know that he’s still here. You don’t feel like going to check on him, though.

When the movie ends, it’s 12:43 PM. Jade and Rose are gonna be here soon. Ugh. You need to change, which means going up to your room. Where Dave is. With facing him being unavoidable, you decide to go anyway and just grin and bear it.

When you walk in, you confirm that Dave was not sleeping. Either that, or he woke up since your dad saw him. He’s lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He has his shades back on, but you can tell he’s awake.

“Hey,” he says without looking at you. His face and tone don’t betray any emotion, which is normal for him.

“I need to change,” you say as you go over to your dresser. “Jade and Rose are gonna be here soon.” He doesn’t respond, or even really move. You proceed to change. You’ve long since been comfortable changing in front of Dave. You’ve seen each other’s butts a million times. When you’re done, you sit on the bed next to him with your back against the wall. You want to show him you’re not mad at him, but you don’t want to break the silence. So instead, you gently take his hand in yours. You can feel him tighten around your hand and somehow tell that everything is okay. You don’t look at him, but you keep your hands linked until the doorbell rings.

 

 

**Rose: Socialize**

You talked with Jade and arranged for her to have her pick you up. She was lucky enough to be able to get her grandfather to drive her to John’s house. You weren’t suspicious of anything when John asked if you wanted to join the rest of your friends. However, Jade’s behavior has been a little off-putting. She seemed kind of anxious to get to John’s house as quickly as possible, and at one point she expressed concern for him, but avoided the subject when you asked her why. His behavior was a little concerning when he messaged you this morning, but you didn’t spend too much time worrying about it. You hope she isn’t keeping anything from you.

You’re now currently pulling up to John’s house. Jade’s grandfather drops you two off and tells you to have a “jolly adventure”. He’s quite an aficionado of old-timey adventure and tends to use outdated language. It’s interesting, but sometimes his manner of speaking can be a bit grating. Jade rings the doorbell and anxiously taps her foot while waiting for them. You eye her suspiciously and tell her not to get too excited. She just responds with a giggle. John opens the door soon after and welcomes the both of you with a shy smile.

“Hey guys!” he says. Jade gives him a long, tight hug.

“Hi John! How have you been?” she greets him.

“Wow Jade, it’s only been a day since I’ve seen you!” he replies.

“I know, silly! But I can still be concerned about my friend’s well-being! Hehe,” she giggles.

“I suppose so! Well, I’ve been fine.” He smiles at her and then turns to you.

“Nothing to say, Rose? Usually you’re the one asking questions,” he snickers.

“I was simply waiting for a chance to speak. Now that I have one, hello, John. May we come in? you make sure to ask with some extra snark. He seems shocked for a quick moment before smiling again.

“Yeah, come on in! Dave’s already here, but I think he’s still upstairs.” You both enter and he shuts the door behind you. You then see Dave walking down the steps. You’re surprised by how tense he looks. He’s tense pretty much all the time, but this is even worse, especially for when he’s here. Dave always tries not to betray any emotion, and it usually works, but not on you. His facial and body language have more subtle cues than most, but if you know where to look, he’s definitely the easiest out of your friends to read.

“Hello, Dave.” You give him a look as if to ask him what’s wrong. Either he doesn’t notice or deliberately ignores it.

“Sup Lalonde,” he says in the most nonchalant voice he can muster. “Sup Harley.”

“Hey Dave!” Jade exclaims, almost as excited as she was to greet John. Dave smirks at her. This strikes you as rather unusual, as his smirks tend to be given out sparingly. Jade hugs him when he reaches the bottom of the stairwell and he actually somewhat returns it. There’s definitely something going on that you don’t know about.

“How have you been, Dave?” you inquire, trying hard to get some information, or at least some clues.

“I’m swell, Lalonde. Been havin’ some great times with my best bro here,” he responds as he puts an arm around John. You can tell he’s holding back. You’re not sure whether to attribute it to his someone obvious crush on John (which is perfect, since John is the most oblivious person you know), or if something happened between them. Between that and the way he’s talking, you suspect it’s the latter.

“I’m sure,” you respond, trying not to sound too sarcastic. “Well, what did you all want to do?”

“Well, uh, whatever you guys wanna do, I’m OK with it,” John says rather shyly. He, too, seems more uncomfortable than he is normally, so at this point, you figure something definitely did happen between him and Dave. You start planning a way to figure out what it was. Dave definitely will avoid the subject, so it will have to come from John. You wonder if he’s mentioned what you’ve discussed with him this week with Dave, namely his self-diagnosis of social anxiety disorder.

“Well, it’s your house, so you get to decide. But how about a movie?” you suggest, since no one else has said anything.

“A movie is what we always do, Rose!” Jade protests.

“Well, I’m not seeing anyone else make suggestions. Besides, we have plenty of time to do more than just watch a movie. Maybe it will inspire us,” you say.

“A movie’s cool,” Dave concurs.

“Okay, a movie is cool. I’ve already watched Con Air today, but do you guys wanna watch Little Monsters?” John offers.

“Man, John! How have you already watched Con Air?” Jade teases him.

Dave shrugs. “Slow morning. Anyways, Little Monsters is an atrocity to AJ lovers everywhere. Why don’t we just watch Ghostbusters?”

“That works too,” John replies, but he’s looking at you rather than at Dave. Maybe he actually does want to talk to you. You start plotting a way to get him alone.

You all squeeze together on John’s couch after he gets Ghostbusters ready. You’re squished between John and Jade. Dave is on the other side of John, but they don’t seem as comfortable to share each other’s space as they usually are. An idea strikes you.

“We should make popcorn. John, will you show me where the popcorn is?” You get up to go to the kitchen, and John follows you. He takes a bag of popcorn from the panty and puts it in the microwave. You use the sound of the microwave and the popping corn as a cover for your voice.

You turn to face John. “John, is everything alright?” you ask in a low voice, almost a whisper.

“Uh, yeah I’m fine, why do you ask?” he responds in kind, obviously lying.

“I can tell something happened between you and Dave. You’ve been acting weird around each other since I got here, and you’re both definitely uncomfortable. Sorry, but I’m afraid I must intervene,” you admit, trying to expedite the conversation, given the time limitation.

He sighs. “Yeah, Dave and I had kind of an argument this morning.” He looks at the ground.

“Concerning what?”

“Stuff,” he dodges.

“John, I really want to help you,” you say, exasperated.

“There it is again.” He sounds annoyed.

“There what is again?”

“I don’t want to be helped,” he admits. He looks sad now.

“Is that what you fought about with Dave?”

John finally opens up. He recounts what happened last night and then this morning. When the popcorn is done, you suggest another bowl, and he complies before continuing. When he finishes telling you what happened, he explains a little further about how he feels humiliated and small when people treat him like that, even with the best of intentions. He knows that he needs help, but he feels terrible about needing it. By the end, his eyes are watering. You mostly let him speak. When the second bag of popcorn is done, he’s pretty much finished and trying not to cry. You give him a quick hug and tell him that it’ll be okay (even if that’s not very helpful).

John puts the popcorn into a bowl, and you bring it out to the living room. He follows a short time later, presumably trying to hide his recent emotional confession.

“Give popcorn. Dave hungry,” Dave says as he reaches out towards the bowl. You throw a piece at his face, and he manages to catch it in his mouth. You sarcastically congratulate before returning to your seat.

“Fuckin’ best instincts in the wild west,” he jokes.

“Shh!” says John, already back to being engrossed in the movie. He’s leaning into Dave’s side now, and Dave isn’t pushing him away; this makes you feel better. You’ll still need to talk to him more later, but at least things are better for now. Jade is sleeping by this point, which is par for the course; you’ve expressed concerns over her excessive sleeping, but Jade always dismisses them. You let her be, waiting until the end of the movie to wake her. You all finish watching the rest without any interruptions.

 

 

**Jade: Be rudely awoken**

The first thing you feel is the sensation of someone on top of you. You open your eyes and are startled to be looking directly into the eyes of one John Egbert. You make a bit of a yelp and instinctively push him off of you. He just ends up on the floor laughing, the prankful fuck. You’re mostly just glad to see him laughing. After what Dave told you yesterday, you have been worried about him! You’ve tried not to be overbearing today, but you wanted to hug him forever as soon as you saw him. Against your better judgement, you listened to Dave when he said not to tell Rose what happened, although it was hard to keep your composure on the way over and you think she may have noticed.

After you have been sufficiently awoken, and received yet another comment from Rose about your excessive sleeping habits (really it’s not a big deal), the four of you try to decide what to do next. You eventually decide on going into the city for lunch, since John and Dave are really hungry by now. You all uncomfortably get into Dave’s beetle. You didn’t even know they had back seats! John, of course, gets shotgun, even though you’re taller than him. Your protests are ineffective, so it’s you and Rose in the back.

You really hope your efforts have been helpful. You want to ask John, but you don’t even know if you’re supposed to know about it, so you keep to yourself. It’s just between you and Dave.

“So, do we actually know where we’re going?” Dave asks some time into the car ride. “Cause if no one suggests anything, I’m going to Taco Bell.”

“Dave!” John replies a bit quickly. “That restaurant is an insult to Mexican food! Let’s go to Chipotle.”

“You don’t want to go to a Mexican fast food place, so you suggest a Mexican fast food place?” Rose jokingly remarks.

“Well, Chipotle does it a lot better than Taco Bell! And it’s too good to pass up either way.”

“True,” says Rose.

“Chipotle sounds good to me!” you input.

“Guess I’ve been outvoted,” Dave relents. “Chipotle it is.”

When you arrive, it’s a struggle for you all to actually get out of Dave’s fucking clown car, but you make it. You all order, with everyone getting a burrito except for Rose, who gets a bowl. John tries to pay for all of your food, but none of you are having it.

“Joooohn! You can’t pay for us, this is your day!” you whine.

“My day?” he looks at you with a weird expression. It then occurs to you that you should probably not have said that. Damn.

“Yeah! Your day to relax. You’ve pretty much been stressed out all week; we could all tell!” That’s at least kind of true, so hopefully it works.

John puts his face in his hands. “Guys, really, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Alright, but we’re paying for our own food!” you retort. He gives in, and you all enjoy a nice lunch. Afterwards, you spend some time walking around the city. Dave takes you all into a music shop, where he gets drawn into a set of mixing equipment. John spends his time playing random sheet music on the piano until they’re ready to leave. Rose wants to go to a bookstore, then John wants to go in a joke shop, and then finally you force everyone to follow you into a gun store. They all look slightly uncomfortable, but if they got to look at what they wanted, then damn well you will too.

Your miscellaneous shenanigans take you well into the afternoon, at which point all of you are tired from walking and decide to go back to John’s house. You watch another movie (Armageddon, Lord help you) and then play some video games. At some point, John’s dad comes out with a cake, which you all eat (except John), even though you haven’t actually had dinner. Eventually, you fall asleep again and wake up to Rose telling you it’s probably time to go home.

 

 

**John: Say goodbye**

You say goodbye to Rose and Jade first. They both give you hugs; Jade’s has just as much fervor as her hello hug. Rose whispers “I’ll message you later” in your ear. You’re not really excited for it. Once they’re gone, you turn to look at Dave. You feel guilty about how you treated him, especially after your talk with Rose. She helped you feel a little more rational, and confessing made you feel calmer. As much as it makes you uncomfortable, you’re lucky Rose is so perceptive.

“When are you leaving?” you ask after a bit of an awkward silence.

“Uh, whenever. I can leave now if you want.”

“You don’t have to.” You look at the ground for a few seconds before looking Dave in the shades again.

“I’m sorry.” Before he can respond, you give him a hug, your face in his shoulder thanks to your height difference. He doesn’t react much besides relaxing his body a little.

“For what?”

“How I acted this morning. And last night. And just everything. You’re my best friend and I’ve been hiding stuff from you and when you try to help all I do is fuck up.” Your face is still in his shoulder so your voice is kind of muffled, but you don’t move. Dave finally reciprocates the hug, pulling your body into his.

“Dude,” he says with his mouth by your ear, “you haven’t fucked up. You’re stressed out and I get it. I care about our friendship too much to let outbursts like that get to me. I’m just... worried. About what you said last night. I’ve never seen you so upset and I don’t know what to do to make you feel better. I want to help but I don’t know how and I’m kinda scared _I’m_ gonna be the one to fuck everything up.” You can actually hear the emotion in his voice, which surprises you.

“Don’t worry Dave, I care about you too much too. I don’t know how to help myself either, but I’m trying, and I guess all I can really ask is for you to be here. I might not say it much but having you here to listen means so much to me. It’s just that every time I want to talk about what’s going on I’m afraid you won’t want to hear it or you’ll get annoyed or some other fucking reason my head’s made up.” There are tears welling up in your eyes by this point. You and Dave haven’t stopped hugging each other.

“I promise now that I’ll never abandon you. I’m always here to listen. I want to listen. I want to be the one that’s there for you. I fucking love you, John.” He chokes up on the last sentence, and he even uses your first name. It’s enough for your tears to start falling.

“Thanks Dave. So much. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You two continue hugging each other for another minute or so before pulling away. Dave pushes his shades up to wipe his eyes, which are red everywhere now. Yours probably look just as bad, if not worse.

“Do you wanna go to bed? I’m kinda wiped out now,” Dave asks you.

“Is your bro okay with you staying another night?”

“Dude, you know he doesn’t care. I can leave if you want me to, though.”

“No, I’d uh... really like it if you stayed,” you say shyly.

“Good, cause so would I.” Dave gives you a real smile, which is something you definitely don’t see often. You give him a shy smile back. You both get ready for bed and get under the covers. Dave looks at you, and you notice his expression actually kind of looks sad.

“You okay?” you ask, smiling up at him.

“Yeah. You’re so fucking cute,” he mumbles so that you can barely even understand what he said. It takes you by surprise and stuns you for a second as you try to think of an appropriate response. Eventually you smile again.

“You’re pretty cute yourself when you’re not trying to be a coolkid,” you giggle. Dave visibly blushes and turns so that he’s facing the ceiling.

“Thanks,” he mumbles again. In the silence, you scoot over a little so that you’re cuddling Dave’s side. He gently puts his arm around you, almost cautiously. You already know how comfortable Dave is, which is why you love cuddling with him. But this time, you notice how nice he smells. It’s partly deodorant, but with Dave’s distinctive mark. You’re not sure why it’s so comforting to you right now, but you don’t complain.

“This is nice,” you comment.

“Yeah,” Dave replies, still solemnly looking at the ceiling.

“Dude, are you sure you’re okay. It goes both ways ya know, you can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s... it’s nothing important.” He turns to you again. “Let’s just go to sleep. I’m beat.”

“It sure doesn’t sound unimportant,” you retort.

“Maybe later. Sleep now.” He pulls you into his chest.

“Alright,” you concede with a sigh. Neither of you say anything after that, and soon you’re caught up in sleep.

**== >**

Dave’s problem doesn’t come up again before he leaves. You spend Sunday night alone, mostly doing the homework you neglected before. Suddenly, you’re interrupted by an alert from Pesterchum.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 20:15 --

 

TT: Hello, John.  
EB: oh hey rose  
EB: are we getting to the greatly anticipated message later  
TT: Indeed we are, if that’s alright with you.  
EB: i guess.  
EB: what you said really did help me.  
EB: so thanks.  
TT: I’m glad to hear that. How have things been since then?  
EB: dave and i talked more and we’re all good.  
EB: he stayed another night but left earlier.  
TT: Interesting.  
TT: I never really got a chance to say anything after what you told me.  
TT: So what I want to ask is  
TT: Is there anything we can do to help? I know you were averse to it, but I really want you to feel better. We all do.  
EB: it’s ok.  
EB: i guess the most helpful thing really is reassurance.  
EB: like, that i’m not a bother or i’m not being annoying or anything.  
EB: but at the same time it feels attention seeking to ask for that.  
EB: so it feels like i can’t win.  
TT: I understand.  
TT: Just try to express to us when you’re uncomfortable, okay? We’re all here for you.  
EB: i’ll try.  
EB: i can’t really guarantee anything.  
EB: thanks though. :B  
TT: Have you told Dave or Jade that you think you may have social anxiety disorder?  
EB: not yet.  
EB: i considered telling dave last night, but it never seemed appropriate.  
EB: he seemed to be having his own problems, anyways.  
TT: Oh? Like what?  
EB: well, he seemed sad when we went to bed last night.  
EB: it took a while for him to even admit something was wrong but he said he’d tell me later.  
EB: he never did though.  
EB: i hope he’s okay.  
TT: He might just be concerned about you. You have been worrying him lately.  
EB: maybe. he wouldn’t be so secretive about that though, would he?  
TT: Oh, I’m not sure. Dave has a natural tendency to suppress his problems.  
EB: you’re right about that.  
EB: well given how much he wants me to communicate i hope he would do the same. i won’t worry about it too much i guess.  
TT: I hope so.  
TT: On another note, have you made any more consideration about counseling?  
EB: not really.  
EB: even the thought of it makes me uncomfortable.  
EB: so i’d rather not do it except as a last resort.  
TT: Last resort to what?  
EB: idk.  
TT: John, can you promise me that if things get too hard to handle, you’ll go to get help?  
TT: I need to make sure you won’t do anything extreme.  
EB: geez rose, i don’t think i’m that bad. :B  
EB: but yeah. i promise. and i promise i won’t do anything “extreme”.  
TT: Good. I would ask you to pinky swear, but this is a rather inconvenient medium for that sort of thing, so I’ll take your word on it.  
EB: hehe  
EB: rose?  
TT: Yes?  
EB: thank you for caring.  
TT: It’s no problem, John. I’m your friend  
TT: It’s my duty to care.  
EB: <3  
TT: I’m not usually one to use glyphic punctuation, but I’ll spare you one this time.  
TT: <3  
EB: lol  
EB: well i need to finish my homework.  
TT: Of course. Wouldn’t want to distract the AP student from his important work.  
EB: haha shut up rose, like you’re not an ap student too!  
TT: Yes, but I’m an AP student who has finished their homework.  
TT: But anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow.  
EB: bye rose!

 

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 20:34 --

 

You finish the conversation smiling. You really are lucky to have friends like you do. But at the same time, you can’t help but worry. You don’t know if you’ll be able to keep your promise. If it comes down to it, will you be able to ask for help? Even as you finish your homework and go to bed, you’re still thinking about it. You just don’t know if you’re brave enough.

 

**John: Worsen**

It’s been a few weeks into the semester, and now school is really starting to give everyone a heavy workload. This means that you’ve had less time to hang out with your friends, which has really put a damper in your mood. You try not to show it, but you really miss them, even though you still see them every day at lunch.

Speaking of lunch, Karkat has pretty much become a permanent addition to your table. You’ve slowly grown used to him, and you might even consider him a friend. He’s not on the same level as the rest of them, but at least you feel comfortable talking at lunch now.

It’s on this particular day early in October when your lunch table grows even larger. Another person seems to have been exiled from Karkat’s former table. She’s a tall girl with short black hair and a surprisingly stylish fashion sense. She’s wearing green lipstick, of all colors, but it fits with her ensemble. She must really put in a lot of work in the morning. She comes to your table and sits on the other side of Rose, greeting Karkat and then the rest of you. You groan internally.

“Welcome to the land of the slightly less tortured, Kanaya,” Karkat greets her in his trademark unnecessarily loud voice.

“I cannot stand when Vriska gets like this. The way she acts is just so grating. And she still has the nerve to ask me to make her prom dress,” the girl whose name is apparently Kanaya complains.

“You’re preaching to the choir here, pal,” Karkat replies.

“Sorry to interrupt, but do you actually create prom dresses?” Rose interjects, looking at Kanaya.

She nods. “I hope to pursue a career in fashion design. I’m a bit of an amateur currently, but what Vriska is paying me is cheaper than an actual prom dress, and somehow she trusts my ability well enough.”

“Interesting. Would you mind showing me some of your designs some time?”

“Sure, at some point,” Kanaya chuckles.

“Didn’t figure you one for fashion, Lalonde,” Dave comments.

“It piques my interest. Besides, I’m interested in the designs. I do knit, after all. It’s not a foreign concept to me.”

“Whatever you say,” Dave rolls his eyes behind his shades behind his shades and continues eating.

At this point, you’re kind of upset. Just as you were getting comfortable again, another person comes and changes the dynamic. This is your only reliable chance to see your friends, but you really don’t feel like you can be yourself around people you don’t know. Jade tries to talk to you, but you give her short responses. You eat the rest of your lunch silently and leave early.

**== >**

You collapse in your bed when you get home, stress overwhelming you. You’ve been feeling increasingly alone lately. Your normal habit has been to come home from school and basically lock yourself in your room for the day, except to eat dinner. Sometimes you don’t even dinner. You tell your dad you’re not feeling well, which is technically true, but it’s mostly because you’re too depressed to eat dinner. The loneliness combined with your anxiety has really started to fuck you up.

That’s why you feel especially like shit today. Having another person at your lunch table has fucked you up way more than it should. You hate how much it bothers you. You hate how afraid you are to speak in front of her. In front of anyone you’re not comfortable with. It’s debilitating, and you just really want it to stop. You’re already crying again. You ask Dave if he can hang out so you don’t have to be alone. You don’t mention any of this to him, though, and he tells you he has to work on some “damn stupid fucking project”. Rose and Jade are no more successful.

So instead you decide to wallow in your own sadness. But you’re not just sad. You’re angry, and all that anger is directed towards yourself. You’re angry at yourself for being such a coward, such a wimp, so fucked up. You’re angry you can’t even handle your own life. Before you know what you’re doing, you slap yourself hard across the face. It stings, but that doesn’t bother you. Somehow, it feels good to you. Like the pain is what you deserve. Like it atones you. It’s a strange feeling, but it compels you.

You start scratching your forearm. Digging deep with your nails, the feeling is somehow... relaxing. It feels good, even though it hurts. You get an idea, and get up to go to your desk. You open the drawer and pull out a swiss army knife that your dad gave you for your birthday. You haven’t really used it for anything, until now. In a fit of derangement, you open the knife and bring the blade down to your forearm.

As you sit there, ready to maim yourself, you think about your promise to Rose. You promised her that you would ask for help before doing something this extreme. Does slitting your wrists count as extreme? The rational part of your brain says, of course, this is really fucked up. But the emotional part is not so sure. You can’t bring yourself to talk to anyone. To admit how close you came to this. Soon, you’re sobbing again. You can’t handle feeling like this. You have another surge of anger, and before you know it, you’ve already slashed the blade across your forearm. It leaves a cut all the way across, and dark red blood begins seeping out.

The pain is something else to you. A cut has never felt like this before. You feel almost... relieved. Like you deserve this. At the same time, you feel disgusted in yourself that you let this happen. But the pain still soothes you. It still hurts, but that barely even bothers you now. All you can focus on is the blood dripping down your arm, as if all your fuckups and stupidity are flowing out of you. You get a paper towel to soak up the blood, and lay on your bed as you stew in your own self-hatred.

_You’re such a coward. This is what you deserve._

**== >**

As you get dressed the next day, you notice the scar on your forearm. It’s very visible. Even though it’s October, it hasn’t gotten cold yet, so normally you’ve been wearing t-shirts. Today is no different, but a t-shirt would leave your wound exposed. You really don’t want people to begin asking about it, so you decide to wear a hoodie over your shirt and endure the heat. Now that the rush is over, you feel ashamed. How could you let yourself do this? Your friends would freak out if they found out. You don’t want them to worry.

_What an attention seeker you are, cutting yourself. Just another way to get everyone to pay attention to you. It’s pathetic._

The self-deprecating thoughts going through your head won’t stop. It’s hard to not listen to them. They get to you so easily, and you already find yourself believing them. You can’t let anyone see it. You admit to yourself that you want attention. You want to know that people care about you. But doing it like this is just shitty. It’s basically guilt tripping people into caring about you. You don’t want that. So you keep it concealed as best you can.

“Why dressed so warmly?” Dave teases you as he picks you up. You try not to give away any feelings of panic on your face.

“I, uh, it’s kinda cold outside,” is the best you can come up with.

“Bullshit, it’s like 70 today. And you’re more of a native northerner than I am. Are you sick or something?”

“Uh, maybe? I dunno.” You are sick, you figure. Sick in the head.

“Sure you want to come to school?”

“Dave, I’m fine. I just felt a little cold, is that such a problem?” you snap, a bit more aggressively than you mean to.

“Whoa, alright. If it really matters to you that much, I don’t really care, bro.”

The ride goes on silently for a few minutes before Dave turns his head a bit so he can look at you.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asks in that grossly sympathetic tone of his.

“Yes, I’m fucking peachy,” you reply, acting visibly annoyed. Really, you just want to admit that you’re not okay. You’re not okay at all and now you’re headed down a really dark path but you can’t stop yourself and you can’t tell anyone either. You’re trapped in your own mind. You can’t say it, though, for that exact reason.

“Kay bro,” he simply responds, looking back at the road. The rest of the trip is silent until you arrive at school. You go your own ways with just a simple see you later. Rose gives you the same shit about your outfit, but you dismiss her concerns with as little suspicion as you can manage. Kanaya returns to your lunch table, so it looks like she’s probably gonna stay, too. Great. Another few weeks before you feel comfortable at lunch again. You really do feel hot in your hoodie, but no way you’re revealing your arm. You go home a sweaty mess.

When you get home, you take off your hoodie immediately and look back at the red slash on your arm. You’re overcome with more feelings of shame, and tears fall on your arm before you even realize you’re crying. You don’t eat dinner that night. You wish this could all end. You’re tired of being miserable.

 

 

**John: Crack**

It’s a bit before Thanksgiving break before you are really comfortable around Kanaya. Her spot at your table has been secured, and her and Rose have really taken a liking to each other. They usually spend lunch absorbed in their own conversation. Meanwhile, Dave and Jade tend to have fierce conversations with Karkat, which usually devolve into arguments. You sometimes join in, but you usually don’t feel like you have anything worthwhile to say, and you’re also afraid of getting yelled at. So you don’t say much, and you tend to be left alone. Sometimes you leave lunch early because you just don’t feel good and spend the rest of it in the bathroom. You’ve been hoping that one of your friends would notice, but none of them have said anything.

_They don’t care about you. They don’t even notice when you’re not there._

The workloads haven’t gotten any better. Dave still comes over occasionally, but his visits are sparser than they’ve ever been. You can’t wait for Thanksgiving break so that you and your friends can actually have some time together. In the past few years, you’ve always had a Thanksgiving together. Rose and her mom, Jade and her grandpa, Dave and even his bro spend Thanksgiving at your house. They’ve long since been convinced of the greatness of your dad’s cooking skills, so none of them even bother with their own dinner.

On the last day of school before the break, you ask your friends at lunch to confirm their attendance.

“Oh, John, I’m sorry. I forgot to mention; my mom wants us to spend some quality time with our extended family back in New York. Believe me, if I had a choice, I’d avoid them. Most of them have an... archaic way of thinking.” Rose’s news feels like a blow to the gut, but you don’t show it on your face.

“Oh, that’s alright, Rose. I’m sorry; we’ll miss you!” you attempt to reassure her without sounding annoyed.

Dave goes next. “Shit, call this year fuckin’ cursed cause I gotta deal with the same shit. Bro’s taking us down to Texas. Apparently I actually have living family there? I didn’t even know I had any besides Bro. It’s like we came on a meteor or some shit. But apparently so. I’m not excited to spend any time around any old people in Texas, that’s for damn sure.”

“Oh, uh... okay...” is all you manage to get out. You’re just looking at the table at this point. You don’t really want to face him. It’s not even their faults, but you feel anger burning in you, aimed directly at them. You’ve spent so much time alone lately that you’re starting to go insane.

“Well, this sucks!” Jade inputs. “Don’t worry John, my grandpa and I have no plans to visit any racist relatives!” You smile at her. At least not all hope is lost.

“Cool. I’ll see you there then,” you try your best to sound excited. It’s just not the same with half of the crowd gone.

When you get home, you wish Dave a happy Thanksgiving in Texas. He’s not thrilled. You jokingly (although you’d actually do it) offer to let him hide away in your house. He seems to genuinely consider it for a moment, but says Bro’s too smart for that kind of thing. So you wave him off, with the knowledge that you won’t see him again until next week weighing down on your stomach.

You start working on your homework right away in an attempt to distract yourself from your normally scheduled emotional turmoil. It’s almost like a routine by this point. And yet you still can’t bring yourself to ask for help. You tell your dad the news about Thanksgiving when he gets home. Once you’re done with schoolwork, you decide to drown your sorrows in your only friend who will never leave you, Nic Cage. You watch about three movies before falling asleep on the couch in the middle of National Treasure.

You wake up in a daze on Thanksgiving Day. Checking your phone, you see that you have messages from Rose and Dave.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 06:12 --

 

TT: This flight is entirely too early. I fear I may end up trying to summon an Eldrich monster to suck me into hell.  
TT: Really though, happy Thanksgiving, John. Don’t let our absences get in the way of your celebrations.

 

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 06:13 --

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 08:08 --

 

TG: jfc i hate planes  
TG: save me john  
TG: if i die tell my children i love them  
TG: my child being you because i love you  
TG: wow if that isn’t the sappiest thing ive ever typed  
TG: your honor motion to strike that from the record  
TG: motion granted  
TG: anyways happy t-giving bro  
TG: ill miss ya

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 08:10 --

 

You sigh. You can still feel the anger in you at their absence, but it’s obscured by sadness. The same sadness that’s been permeating your life for months, maybe even longer. Loneliness. You can’t rationalize it away, and it fucking sucks. You wish both of them a happy Thanksgiving back.

**== >**

It’s around 2 PM and your dad is deep in the labor of preparing a hearty Thanksgiving dinner. At least he doesn’t have to work as hard this year, since half as many people will be eating. It’s at this moment when you get a message from Jade.

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 02:12 --

 

GG: john!!!!!  
GG: i have some bad news :(  
EB: you can’t come to dinner can you.  
GG: well uh  
GG: my grandpa had something happen with his heart!!  
GG: i had to call an ambulance and we are at the hospital now :(  
EB: oh no!  
EB: is he okay?  
GG: hes stable now but still not awake. im trying to be optimistic  
EB: you’re the most optimistic person i know, you can make it through this.  
EB: im sure he’ll be fine. he’s like a super tough adventurer guy right?  
GG: yeah, i hope this doesn’t mean anything :(  
GG: thank you though john!!  
GG: but youre right we wont be able to come to dinner D:  
GG: im really sorry!!!  
EB: it’s not your fault.  
GG: ill talk to you later, the doctor is coming back!!  
GG: bye!!!

 

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 02:18 --

 

Fuck. Fuck your life. Right now, you just feel kind of numb. You break the news to your dad.

“Oh, that’s terrible! I hope Mr. Harley is okay. Well, at least there’s plenty of food for us! We don’t get much time together.” Your dad tries to be optimistic, but you can’t hide the look of dejection on your face. He takes a break from his cooking to walk over to you and start rubbing your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, son. I know this must be disappointing for you. We can still enjoy a nice meal though. Dinner’s almost ready; can you go set the table?” He goes back to the food to prepare it for serving. You absentmindedly set the table for two. It feels empty and wrong. Your dad puts the food on the table. The turkey is huge and there are so many side dishes you can’t even enumerate them all. This food is gonna last you a month, at least.

“So, is there anything you want to talk about, son?” your dad asks as you both sit down to eat.

“Uh. I dunno. Not really,” you mumble, still failing to hide your shitty mood.

“Are you sure? I know today you have a reason, but you’ve been seeming down an awful lot lately. It worries me, especially when you don’t eat anything. Is school getting too stressful for you?”

You don’t respond. You’re looking down at your plate of food, of which you have yet to eat any. You don’t really feel like eating, either. You’re just trying to hold back tears. You want to confess to your dad that yes, you’ve been having trouble lately and yes, you need help. But you’re too embarrassed. Your pride is still holding you back, even though you didn’t know you even had any pride.

“I’m okay, Dad.” You can’t stop your voice from quavering, and fuck it’s really obvious that you’re about to start crying.

“John, you know you can tell me anything,” your dad softly reassures you. You appreciate the effort, but you just can’t handle it right now. Tears start flowing down your face onto your food, and you abscond to your room as quickly as possible. You don’t even look at your dad; you don’t want to have to face his expression.

“John!” he calls out to you as you run up the stairs, but you give it no credence. You slam your door and lock it before collapsing into a heap on your bed.

There’s a knocking at your door. “John, what’s wrong? Can we talk?”

“No,” you reply between sobs, loud enough to make sure he can hear you.

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone for now. Will you promise to at least talk to me later?” he sounds really sad now, and damn if you don’t fuck everything up.

“Yeah,” you answer, even though you pretty much never want to talk about it. You want to give him at least some peace of mind.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later. I love you, son, and I’m proud of you. Don’t forget that.”

You know he was trying to make you feel better, but it just ends up adding to the pile of things that make you feel like shit.

_He shouldn’t be proud of you. You’re a fucking disappointment. A fucking pussy who cries at the drop of a hat._

Then, you start to feel the familiar sensation again. That feeling of anger boiling inside you. Your own self-hatred coming to the surface of your conscious thought and driving you into the frenzy. You get the Swiss army knife out again. You haven’t cut since the first time, but now you feel compelled. Everything about this day has gone wrong, and it’s like the universe itself is leading you towards this outcome.

You dash to the bathroom and lock the door. Pulling up the sleeve of your shirt, you sit down in the bathtub to make things easier. There’s still a stream of tears falling down your face, but it’s mixed with anger. There’s still a bit of a scar from your old wound, and that’s where you decide to start. You reopen it, going slowly this time. It hurts, but the pain is soothing. It feels right. It feels just. This is what you deserve. This is what you need.

You don’t stop at that one incision. You keep going, making a row of lines down your forearm. The blood doesn’t faze you. It’s strangely hypnotic, the way it seeps out and flows down your arm until it drips into the bathtub. You stop after about six or seven cuts. A good chunk of your arm is bloodied, and you just sit there, watching it. Observing it. Any rational part of your brain is currently buried under a pile of emotions right now. You spend a good ten minutes or so just staring at your blood, even running your fingers through it. Eventually, you finally get enough sense to actually wash your arm off, as well as the blood in the bathtub.

You find some gauze in the medicine cabinet. You’re not skilled with it, but you manage to wrap it around your arm until all the cuts are covered. This will have to do for now, you figure. Even though you’re treating yourself, you still don’t feel regretful. The pain still comforts you, and that strange feeling combined with a bit of lightheadedness from blood loss makes you feel tired. It’s only about 3 PM, but you feel like going to bed. You lie down and suddenly realize how exhausted you are. You’re out within minutes.

**== >**

You wake up to darkness. Checking your phone, you see that it’s past midnight. That’s when you remember what you did earlier. You quickly pull up the sleeve of your left arm. The gauze is stained all over with dried blood. Figuring you need to replace it, you get up and go to the bathroom. When you take it off and see all the damage you’ve done, emotions come flooding in. You feel so, so fucking guilty. All your friends have wanted to do is help you, and you let them down. You are the worst. Is it you.

You quickly wash your arm and put on fresh gauze. You run back to your bed and immediately start sobbing into your pillow. Not an unusual occurrence, but this time is different. You feel like you’ve betrayed your friends. You promised Rose you wouldn’t get like this. You promised you’d ask for help. But you didn’t. It’s too much for you to keep inside. You need to say something, but you can’t bring yourself to confess. You open Pesterchum send a single message.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 00:21 --

 

EB: i’m sorry.

 

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 00:21 --

 

She’s three hours ahead, so she’s certainly asleep right now. Indeed, she doesn’t get back to you until the next morning. She asks what you mean, but you never answer.

 

 

**Dave: Make it up to him**

God damn are you mad at Bro for dragging you all the way to Texas for fucking Thanksgiving. Apparently your mom’s parents actually found you and decided it was a good idea to have a reunion. Bro know your mom, but you never did. Maybe that’s why he’s more eager to actually go through with it. You didn’t figure him to be one to give a shit about family, but there have been a lot of surprising things in your life lately.

You’re going to Texas by plane, which to you is the fucking worst. You’ve never been on a plane in your memorable life, so you’re really not used to them, and they just feel like giant metal death traps. You’re too cool to express any fear though, so you just roll with it. Mostly. You turn your music all the way up and close your eyes. This way you can at least try to pretend you’re somewhere else.

The encounter is just as awkward as you imagined. You and Bro are sitting with two old people you don’t really know. Bro has some early memories of them, but they apparently only saw you when you were a baby. Bro became your legal guardian when your parents died, and immediately moved across the country, claiming it was for the sake of irony (really you figure he just wanted to get away from the bad memories, but he’d never admit it).

But yeah, most of the conversation is dominated by the elderlies while you and Bro just sit there with the occasional one word response or strained reply. You’re staying for the weekend too. God damn. You do your best to seclude yourself for the next few days.

**== >**

It’s Sunday and you’re finally fucking home. You’re too beat to actually do anything, so you just flop down at your computer. You decide to message your best bro; you haven’t really gotten to talk to him since you left.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 19:45 --

 

TG: hey guess whos back from dixas  
EB: what?  
TG: texas  
EB: oh.  
EB: lame.  
TG: shut up egbert anything that makes fun of texas is funny  
EB: whatever.  
TG: so how was dinner with the harleys  
EB: they couldn’t come.  
EB: her grandpa had a heart attack or something  
TG: oh shit  
TG: damn poor harley  
TG: and you had to spend thanksgiving all alone  
TG: how was that  
EB: ok. nothing really happened.  
TG: wish i could have been there  
TG: id take being alone to having to spend it with random old people that neither you nor your bro really know  
TG: it was awkward and texan  
TG: and by texan i mean racist and homophobic undertones  
TG: which is funny since their two grandkids are both flaming  
EB: haha  
EB: i wish you were here too.  
EB: i miss you.  
TG: shit man i miss you too  
TG: ik we havent really gotten to hang out lately because school eats shit  
TG: but fuck school its time for some hardcore bro time  
TG: starting right now  
TG: see you in wait  
EB: wait what?

 

\-- turntechGodhead is now an idle chum! --

 

EB: damn it dave.

 

You go to the Egberts’ as fast as you can. You need to spend time with someone who doesn’t make you want to impale yourself with one of your own shitty swords. You don’t even knock anymore, you just let yourself into the house. The door is usually unlocked during the day.

“Yo Egbert!” you call out as soon as you come in. The first person you see is his dad popping out of the kitchen.

“Oh hello Dave. I wasn’t expecting you,” he says somewhat awkwardly.

“No one ever does,” you coolly retort.

“Can I... ask you something?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You give him a weird look; you’re not sure where this could go.

“Do you know if anything happened to upset John lately? I’m getting very worried, but he won’t talk to me. He’s barely been eating lately and spends most of his time in his room. He didn’t even eat Thanksgiving dinner!” His face has that parental look of anxiety that genuinely makes you feel bad. The news is surprising; you know he’s been having some problems lately but it sounds like he’s really fucked up.

“Oh, uh, nah. I haven’t gotten to talk to him lately. I’ll let you know if I hear anything, kay?” You decide to omit what you do know. You figure he needs to be able to tell his dad himself.

“Thank you, Dave.” He looks more relieved now and returns to the kitchen. That’s when John comes out of his room. He looks at you and practically runs down the stairs before pouncing on you with a hug.

“Woah, calm down boy. I missed you too.” You secretly revel in this, because nothing feels better than an Egbert hug. Well, maybe except an Egbert kiss. That would probably be better. It’s not about to happen though.

“Dave,” he murmurs into your shoulder.

“What?”

“Don’t leave me again.” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You resist the urge to kiss him all over is stupid adorable face. He’s too damn precious.

“I promise, bro,” you simply reassure him. He finally lets go and looks at you with that dorky smile on his face. You can tell he’s not as happy as he looks, though. Years of exposure have taught you to recognize his nuances. It’s probably best not to pry right now, though. You know he has a tendency to hide in his shell if you try. Instead you just opt to chill with him in his room, figuring you’ll get your answer eventually. Sitting next to him on his bed, you recount your Thanksgiving experience in further detail, and he laughs quite a bit. That brings a smile to your own face, which you are only slightly embarrassed about.

“So, what about your Thanksgiving? I know it was pretty boring, but any deets? What’s the hot goss?” Very ironic. You mentally pat yourself on the back. Hopefully you can steer the conversation towards finding out how he’s feeling.

“Uh... not much, really... it was pretty much like a normal dinner.” He looks nervous.

“How come you didn’t eat anything?” you ask before you realize what you’re saying. Shit. There goes subtlety. You decide to finish the thought. “I know for a fact you love Thanksgiving food.” He freezes up and looks away from you. You really hope you didn’t just scare him off.

“Did my dad tell you that?”

“Uh, yeah... he’s really worried about you, bro. And after hearing that, so am I.” You gently try to take his hand, but he forces it away. He’s still not looking at you.

“It’s nothing. Really, don’t worry about me.”

“I care about you too much to not worry about you.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here now, and it’s all good.” He leans his head on your shoulder, and you relieve some of your pent up tension knowing he’s not angry with you. You put your arm around his and ruffle his hair.

“Did it have something to do with me not being here before?”

“Uh, I guess, maybe...” he mumbles. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” you reassure him. You pull him closer and give him a light kiss on the top of the head while rubbing his arm. Both of you sit like that in silence for several minutes.

“I kinda wanna go to bed,” he finally says. “I know it’s kind of early; you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“Nah, bro. I’m beat from having to travel today. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you tease as you ruffle his hair again. He giggles, and that sound alone gives you butterflies. You wonder when you became such a sap.

You strip down to your nighttime clothing and get in bed with him, leaving the lamp on. He’s still wearing his blue hoodie, which strikes you as odd.

“Are you gonna sleep in that?” you ask, giving him a weird look.

“What? Oh, uh, yeah. I’m pretty cold.”

“Bullshit, you’re always the first one to complain when you’re too hot. Besides, I’m here now. I can give you all the heat you need,” you tease.

“Can you just let me wear the fucking hoodie? What’s the big deal?” he asks, sounding unreasonably annoyed.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. You good?”

“I’m fine,” he sighs, looking exasperated. As you’re laying there, you idly try to feel his arms. You’re surprised when he pulls them away very quickly.

“Uhh...” You’re really confused now. He’s acting weird and you have no idea what’s up.

“Sorry. I just. Uh. I dunno.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I told you, I’m fine!”

Suddenly, a very bad thought crosses your mind. You really hope you’re wrong. Gently, you reach for John’s arms again. He lets you, but he still looks uncomfortable. Then, you tacitly squeeze his right forearm. He looks at you strangely but doesn’t really react. Then you do the same thing to his left, and he winces. Shit.

“John...”

“Dave...” his voice quavers. He’s on the verge of tears. You pull back the covers and slowly pull back his left sleeve. You don’t want to look. When you do, it feels like a punch to the face.

 

 

**Dave: Keep calm**

You fail spectacularly. Right now, all you can do is stare at the scars on John’s arm with a feeling of numbness. You gently run your hand over them; he seems too stunned to stop you. Then it really hits you. He’s hurting. He’s hurting more than you ever thought and despite your best attempts, you failed to help him.

“Shit, I...” you blurt absentmindedly. You think back to how he told you not to leave you again. Those words feel like a knife to your stomach now. Finally, you look up at John’s face, and you can see the pain in his eyes. Your eyes are watering; you can’t bear it.

“I’m so fucking sorry bro,” and your voice is covered with sobs as you pull him into yourself. He’s not crying, but he looks ashamed.

“Sorry for what?” he asks in a pained voice.

“I-I should have been there for you.” Your voice is shaking. “I’m your best bro; I should have seen how much pain you were in. You needed someone to be there for you, and I... I fucking failed.”

“Dave,” you can hear the sadness in his voice now. “Don’t blame yourself for my fucked up problems. Please. You’re already too good for me.” You pull out of the hug so that you can look into his face. You look at him like he’s crazy.

“John, you have no idea how good you are. You’re fucking perfect. If anything I don’t deserve you.” Before you know what you’re doing, you kiss him on his forehead. “I love you.” You kiss his cheek and say it again. “I love you.” You keep doing this, kissing his face and telling him you love him. You want to finish with a kiss on the lips, but you don’t want to make this moment worse. You’re not brave enough. By the time you stop, John is quietly sobbing.

**== >**

Your name is John Egbert and you are currently a disaster. Your best friend, the most emotionally contained person you know, discovered your cuts and broke down. You tried to hide them. Dave kept pushing the issue, and eventually you stopped trying. You’re not sure why. Dave’s probably fucking ashamed of you now, even if he won’t show it. All you’ve done lately is prove that you’re completely incapable of handling yourself, like a fucking child who needs adult supervision. You don’t want Dave to think of you like this. He’s never going to stop worrying about you now. It feels kind of nice to have Dave show his support for you, but mostly you just feel guilty. If you had any self-control at all you wouldn’t be in this situation.

Dave’s looking at you now with tear-stained eyes, after kissing your face several times. You really don’t deserve someone as caring as him, even if he says otherwise. He doesn’t deserve the stress you’re giving him.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” you finally admit. “I promised I would get help and I didn’t. I was too much of a fucking coward. I was so mad at myself. So fucking mad, and it just felt right, and... I almost liked it. It actually felt kind of good. That’s the worst part.” You can barely make it to the end coherently, but you manage to get it all out. Your whole body hurts right now, and you just want to die. You just want to isolate yourself and lie there until you rot away.

Dave looks even more pained now. “It’s not your fault. No one’s gonna blame you. We just want you to be happy... I want you to be happy. I just wish I knew how to help.”

“Me too.”

“Will you try to get help now?”

“Even if I said yes, how could you trust me?” you ask, your tone a bit more callused than you intended. Dave stays silent, his eyes looking away from you.

“I know I should, but I just can’t. That’s basically all my problems. I should feel like, but I just can’t. I should be confident in my relationships, but I just can’t! That’s all I can feel! Like I’m totally incapable of functioning like a human being! I’m just broken,” you rant, surprising even yourself.

“I don’t care how broken you are. I’ll put all the pieces back together even if it takes my whole life. And it’s not just me you have to help. We all want to help. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Are you sure?” A stupid question you can’t help but ask.

Dave pulls you into your chest like he always does when you sleep together. “I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.” You feel him place another kiss at the crown of your head.

“Thanks,” you mumble into him. “Can we go to sleep now?”

“Yeah, but we’re not done talking about this, okay.”

“Okay.” You pause for several seconds before adding, “I love you too, Dave.” He just hums and pulls you closer. You fall asleep more relaxed than you have in a long time.

**Dave: Ruminate**

John is finally asleep, but you’re not. The sight of his mutilated arm flashes through your head. He’s in pain. Real psychological pain. And you don’t know what to do. You’ve always seen him as a loveable, carefree goober. That’s how he should be. He doesn’t deserve all of this pain. It breaks your fucking heart. You’d do anything to make him happy, even if you hurt yourself in the process. Maybe that’s not the right attitude to have, but you’re not about to change it. He’s too important.

You can’t just keep this to yourself. John never said not to tell anybody, but even if he did, this is one time you’d have to go against his wishes. Rose probably understands this better than you can. You’ll take any advice you can get right now.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 22:22 --

 

TG: we have a problem  
TT: Hello, Dave. How was your trip?  
TG: shitty but this really isnt the time  
TG: im a fucking mess right now  
TT: Pray tell, why?  
TG: god damn can you not sound like a flighty broad for one second  
TT: Sorry. Do go ahead.  
TG: im at johns house  
TG: and  
TG: fuck  
TG: writing it makes it feel so much more real  
TG: i dont want it to be real  
TT: Dave, what happened? Did John do something?  
TG: yeah he did  
TG: he  
TG: hes cutting himself  
TG: wouldnt let me see his arm until i basically forced him and theres a whole bunch of scars  
TG: fuck  
TG: i dont know how to handle things like this help me  
TT: Oh no.  
TT: Fuck.  
TT: I should have anticipated this.  
TG: its not your fault lalonde its no ones fault  
TG: we couldnt have predicted this we dont have first class access to his mind  
TT: I know, but I was aware how he was feeling. I knew he’s been down on himself lately.  
TG: john blames himself of course  
TT: It’s not his fault. If he has depression, which definitely seems to be the case now, it’s a powerful disease that can override rational thought.  
TT: Self-harm is a symptom and should be treated as such.  
TG: yeah but i dont know how to convince him of that  
TG: lalonde he hates himself  
TG: he doesnt deserve that  
TG: he deserves to be happy id do anything to make him happy  
TT: What about telling him?  
TG: if i knew it would make him happy id do it in a heartbeat  
TG: but i dont so im keeping my emotional bullshit out of it  
TG: fuck lalonde i need your help  
TT: I’m going to talk to him at school tomorrow.  
TT: And we also need to have a meeting with Jade to discuss the details of Operation: Save Egbert.  
TG: shit theres a name now  
TG: thats the kind of spirit we need  
TT: Most certainly.  
TG: be careful when you talk to him its easy to scare him away  
TT: I know. I’ll do my best.  
TG: i dont even know if i can sleep right now somehow having john in my arms makes me feel even worse  
TT: Honestly, how are you two not already a couple?  
TG: shut up  
TT: I’m not sure I can sleep now, either. I know I tend to seem like a heartless witch, but I’m genuinely angry that John could feel like this.  
TG: naw youre fine  
TT: Thanks.  
TT: I have a feeling I’m going to be doing a lot of research tonight.  
TG: see i knew you were the person to go to  
TG: even if this is usually the reason i dont go to you  
TT: I resent that remark.  
TG: love ya too  
TG: anyways im gonna at least try to sleep  
TG: comfort a sleeping john if nothing else  
TT: Good night, Dave.

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 22:44 --

 

You sigh and turn your attention back to the sleeping boy before you. He looks so peaceful. You wish he could feel like that all the time. You need to make sure he knows exactly how much he’s worth. Especially to you. You’re not sure what you’d do if you lost him. Despite your worry, his presence soothes you and eventually you drift off wondering what he’s dreaming about. Hopefully it’s good.

 

 

**John: Endure**

You wake up the next morning in some sort of tangle with Dave. You feel a pit in your stomach as you recall yet another night of Dave uncovering your inner turmoil. You know he’s not going to leave it alone, and neither will your other friends. You hope he won’t mention it. You know you need help, but you really don’t want to deal with anyone trying to force the issue. You’re not in the mood to talk about it, and you may never be.

You get out of bed, which is always enough to wake Dave, no matter how hard you try not to. While you’re getting dressed for school, he stays in bed looking at you. You go to brush your teeth, and when you come back, he’s still laying in bed.

“Hey lazy butt, get ready for school. I’d let you skip here, but unfortunately I kind of need your car,” you remark.

“Yeah.” He finally sits up. “I’m just doing a bunch of thinking.”

You don’t ask him what he’s thinking about; you have a pretty good idea what it’s about already. The longer you can avoid it the better.

“You want anything for breakfast?” you change the subject.

“Nah. I don’t feel that good. I can survive until lunch.”

“Suit yourself.” You go to leave, the room but Dave calls out a “Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“What did you use?”

“For what?” you feign ignorance

“You know.” He pantomimes slashing his wrist.

“I’m not going to talk about it,” you stand your ground and abscond downstairs before he can say anything else. Your pour out a bowl of Lucky Charms and start eating. Dave comes downstairs shortly after.

“Bro, please. I wanna make sure you don’t do it again. It feels like my responsibility now.”

That pisses you off in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. Perhaps his insistence on inserting himself into your problems, despite how much you’re trying to isolate them. What even makes it his business?

_He’s just trying to help you._

_Yeah, but you’re helpless. Nobody can save you when you’re a continuous fuck-up. Better to spare everyone else your pathetic existence._

You’re silent as this internal conflict rages on in your head. Eventually you snap back to reality. Even if Dave won’t drop the subject, you will. You decide to not respond at all to anything he says about it.

“Okay,” Dave sighs once it becomes clear that you’re not going to acknowledge the subject. “I’m not giving up on you, though.” You’re not sure what to think about that.

The both of you finally leave for school, and the whole car ride is silent. A palpable tension hangs in the air, but you do your best to ignore it. You’re not ready to approach the issue. That’s that, and everyone else is going to have to deal with it.

**== >**

Of course, in reality everybody refuses to deal with it. The first part of the day progresses peacefully, but you can see the looks Rose is giving you. You’re pretty sure Dave told her about it, and she’s definitely not going to let the topic rest. If anyone has more perserverance than you, it’s Rose.

Sure enough, when lunch time comes around, she asks if she can talk to you privately. You were in the midst of trying to abscond after you quickly ate your lunch, but she’s too smart for that. She leads you out of the cafeteria with a feeling of dread.

**Karkat: Eavesdrop**

“What’s that all about?” Jade asks the rest of you. You then see Dave give her a visibly concerned look. It surprises you that the insufferable prick is able to express any emotion at all, but everyone has surprises. He then stands up and grabs Jade so that they’re both standing away from the table. They don’t go very far, though. Despite the general din of the cafeteria, you can still slightly make out what they’re saying. You have become a trained master in the art of eavesdropping, so you can do it without even being obvious.

“Egbert’s getting worse,” you hear Dave say. Now this sounds interesting, so you listen with keen ears.

“Oh no! What happened?”

“He, he...” he pauses for several moments. “He’s cutting himself.”

Oh shit.

“What?! How did this happen?”

“I dunno, Harley... We keep trying but he just hates himself so much and it fucking HURTS.” There’s an audible quaver in his voice. “It hurts so much that such a good person could feel so badly about himself. And I’m mad at myself, too, because I wasn’t there enough for him, and I STILL can’t tell him that I–”

 

“Are you really eavesdropping on them, Karkat?” The rest of Dave’s sentence is obscured by Kanaya’s question.

“KANAYA WHAT THE FUCK,” you roar at her. Dave and Jade turn their heads to look at you, but then turn back to each other. Fuck.

“It was at a really interesting part!” you continue without even trying to defend yourself.

“Well, it is a good thing I stopped you when I did. There must be someone to actually respect privacy around here.”

“Fuck off.” You flip her the bird and just tune back in to their conversation. Kanaya looks at you disappointedly, but doesn’t try anything else.

“I c-can’t believe he could f-feel like that!” You realize now that Jade is flat out crying. You feel kind of bad, because Jade is the last person who should be crying. Which means a lot, coming from you.

“Yeah. Me neither,” Dave says back. “That’s why Lalonde is talking to him. She would know best how to handle it. All we can really do it wait, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Jade sniffles. The two then walk back to the table, sitting next to each other, rather than in their usual spots of on each side of you.

“Are you feeling alright, Jade?” Kanaya asks sympathetically.

“I’ll be okay,” she responds, although she still looks visibly hurt. Kanaya simply nods, deciding not to press the issue further. You suddenly get an idea.

“Hey, one of you, John has a Pesterchum, right?” You direct the question to Dave and Jade.

Dave responds. “Uh, yeah, it’s ectoBiologist. Don’t tell me you’re about to go tormenting him.”

“No, I’m not an insensitive prick, unlike some people I know.” You can tell Dave is rolling his eyes behind his shades. “Whatever, thanks. Let’s eat and not make this lunch any more horrifyingly awkward.”

You write that name down in one of your notebooks. ectoBiologist. Sounds nerdy enough to fit the bill. Dave really was wrong about your plan. In fact, your plan is the exact opposite. Rose may be good at understanding, but she can’t empathize with John the way you can. It may seem obvious to people that you hate yourself, but you actually used to be much worse. Very few people know that you used to cut yourself, too.

 

 

**Rose: Engage**

Your name is Rose Lalonde and you’re on a mission. Your best friend is in a mental pitfall, and you feel an obligation to fix it. Your heart may seem cold to others, but it thaws for the people you care about. And when you care about someone, they’ll be sure to know.

John is currently walking with you out of the cafeteria, clearly uncomfortable. You disregard it because you need to talk to him, you need to do it in person, and it needs to be as soon as possible. So here you are. You take him to a deserted bathroom (he tries to object to going into the girls’ room) and waste no time delving in the matter at hand.

“John, show me your arms.” He immediately gets an unpleasant look on his face and crosses his arms while looking at the ground. He doesn’t say anything.

“Please, John, I’m not mad. You’re not in trouble and you didn’t do anything wrong. Just please show me your arms.” Legitimate distress shows in your voice, but it doesn’t bother you right now. If anything it helps seem more relatable.

John squeezes his eyes closed and sighs deeply. He exposes his arms with quick pulls to his sleeves, as if he’s ripping off the bandage. Then he finally opens his eyes and looks at you.

Your heart skips a beat when you see it. His arm really looks like a battleground. You’ve felt sorrow for John for a while, but it’s nothing like the feeling that rushes over you as you process the sight before you.

“Well?” he asks. He has the air of a child that’s waiting to be punished. Even though you were prepared to see this, it takes longer than you’d like to admit for the shock to subside and regain your ability to speak. You feel like you’re about to cry, but you’re good at the art of suppressing tears.

You finally compose yourself. “I’m so sorry, John.” Your distress shows through your voice, if nothing else. You feel compelled to hug him, so you do. He flinches at first, and it takes him a while to reciprocate, but eventually he does.

“Sorry for what?” he questions you. “I made a promise to you and I broke it. I’m the one who should be sorry. I fucked up and I’m a shitty friend, and I fuck up everything.” Despite what he’s saying, his demeanor is currently more level than yours. He just seems kind of numb. This worries you, because it means he’s used to thinking like that. You pull back and look him in the eyes.

“No. Everything you said is not true. Don’t even try to argue with me about it. I knew you had a problem but I didn’t do enough to help you. I should have known you would be scared, I should have noticed how depressive you’ve become, I should have known something was wrong, because I know you well enough that I can’t excuse myself!” Your tear suppression skills fail you, if only for a little bit. One tear falls from your right eye. If this were a movie, it would be accompanied by some overly dramatic cinematography.

You continue. “I had to be _told_ before I realized what was going on. I feel like I’ve failed, because you’re my best friend, and I love you too much to ignore you like I have!”

John looks at you, stunned, presumably for several reasons. It’s very rare for you to raise your voice, or for you to express your emotions like you just have. You have a reputation for being reserved, and you’ve just violated it. That doesn’t bother you, though, because it’s the truth and he deserves to hear it.

“Rose,” John finally says calmly. He has a look of sorrow on his face now. “The last thing I want is anyone to feel guilty because of me. Nothing I do is your fault. You didn’t notice anything because I tried to hide it. You were right, though. I think I need help. But I was too scared and instead I end up with this shit.” He holds up his scarred arm.

“Rose,” he starts saying with increasing distress. “I don’t know what to do. I want to get better but doing it scares me. I don’t have the energy to help myself, and I’m fucking terrified that I’m never terrified.” Tears are slowly rolling down his face as he says this. Soon after, he collapses back into you, crying into your shirt. “I’m so scared...” he sobs quietly. You respond by embracing him and resting your head on his.

“We want to help. All of us. We’ll do anything we can, because you don’t deserve this. You’re smart, you’re lovable, your kindness is unmatched, sometimes you’re funny... you are an amazing friend and I’m so glad to have you in my life.” You’re starting to feel genuinely embarrassed at how sappy you sound, but you ignore those feelings because making John feel better is damn well more important than your own ludicrous insecurities.

“I’m glad to have you, too,” he responds softly. The bell rings to signal the end of lunch, but you’re not ready to part ways yet, and John doesn’t seem to be either. You let him cry as long as he has to, and disregard your teacher’s scolding when you’re fifteen minutes late for your next class.

**== >**

You decide to message John as soon as he gets home. Your earlier discussion hadn’t covered everything you wanted it to.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:01 --

 

TT: Hello, John. How are you feeling?  
EB: hey rose.  
EB: i feel ok.  
TT: Are you sure?  
EB: i mean i guess i don’t *really* feel ok.  
EB: but right now it’s just par for the course.  
TT: What does that mean?  
EB: lack of energy. a looming feeling of loneliness and doom.  
EB: you know, your standard despair.  
TT: It scares me how passive you are about it, though.  
EB: i literally cried in front of you today about it  
TT: Fair point.  
TT: In fact, I came to talk about some things I didn’t get a chance to earlier.  
EB: shoot.  
TT: Would you like me to refer you to a professional? I know you’re scared, but it’s really important and I’m sure one or more of us can accompany you if you need it.  
EB: i want to say yes. really, i do.  
EB: but i know i wouldn’t be able to go through with it right now.  
EB: plus i would have to talk to my dad about it and stuff, and i’m just not ready for that either.  
TT: John, self-harm is very dangerous. Once you begin the habit, it often becomes addictive. I need to know you won’t end up like that.  
EB: i promise when i do feel ready i’ll let you know.  
EB: and i promise i won’t cut  
EB: actually i take back those promises since i’ve already proved i’m too much of a piece of shit to keep them.  
TT: Sigh. Just please think about it. I know you’re scared, but I also know you’re scared you may never be happy. And this is the way to move towards that happiness. I promise, even if it doesn’t seem like it initially.  
EB: i know. i fucking know. i can still think rationally.  
EB: but when it comes down to it, if my emotions feel some way i can’t override then. it’s just physically impossible. that’s the whole problem and i’m sick of it.  
TT: Is there anything we can do to curb your feelings of solitude, at least?  
EB: it only takes a few minutes for my to completely lose confidence in any friendship i have.  
EB: so unless you can constantly be around or reassure me, then my anxiety will overshadow anything else.  
EB: i can’t ask you or anyone to do that. i’m already too scared to ask anyone to hang out half the time.  
TT: Then you don’t have to do the asking. Your friends are going to be in your life, goddamnit.  
EB: haha. thanks rose. really.  
EB: this is the first time i’ve really expressed my feelings in words.  
EB: and it’s kind of... soothing?  
TT: That’s what therapy is all about.  
TT: Or at least part of it.  
TT: It’s about understanding your core feelings and inhibitions, and learning to understand them so that you can begin to fight them.  
TT: I implore you to think about it.  
EB: i said i would.  
EB: for now i’ll just grin and bear it.  
TT: Expect all of us to be around a lot. I know Dave and Jade will do whatever it takes to help you feel better as much as I will.  
EB: glad to hear it. :)  
TT: And John?  
TT: If you ever feel the urge to hurt yourself again, please try to think of an alternative. Call one of us. Play the piano. Use a marker instead of a knife. Cut up something else if you have to.  
TT: Just please be kind to yourself. I know you don’t believe it, but you deserve that kindness. No one deserves to hurt like you are.  
EB: i’ll try.  
EB: thanks rose.  
EB: i’m gonna go now. got homework and stuff, you know.  
TT: Okay. My doors are always open to talk if you need it.  
EB: i’ll remember that.  
TT: Be kind to yourself, John.

 

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:38 --

 

Once you finish your conversation with John, you notice that Dave has a message waiting for you.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist at 15:32 --

 

TG: hey so howd it go today  
TT: I’m not sure what the appropriate response to that question is.  
TG: wtf does that mean  
TT: I think it went well.  
TT: In fact, I just finished having another conversation with him right now.  
TG: oh cool  
TG: give me the deets  
TT: He admits he has problems, but currently is refusing professional help.  
TT: So it’s up to us for now, I guess.  
TG: damn  
TG: what about the cutting though  
TT: I gave him some alternative strategies.  
TT: He said he would do his best to stop.  
TT: I’m still worried, though.  
TT: The urge can be powerful, and John’s emotional state is still mostly unchecked  
TG: well then we better check the hell out of it  
TG: starting right now  
TG: i should just move into his house honestly  
TG: i wonder how long it would take bro to notice  
TG: maybe once his profits go down on his perverted camera stream  
TT: I’m still pretty sure that’s illegal without your consent.  
TG: whatever not like ive really cared much  
TG: anyways we should make group plans for the weekend  
TG: smother that child with kindness  
TT: Tact is important, Dave.  
TT: If it’s too obvious we’re doing it for him, he’s going to back away.  
TT: It’s common for victims of anxiety and depression to try and minimize their burden on others out of fear.  
TG: fear of what  
TT: It doesn’t have to be a fear of anything.  
TT: It can just be a fear.  
TT: That’s what an anxiety disorder is, essentially.  
TG: damn i still dont really understand how this all works  
TG: and i feel shitty about that  
TG: cause my best bro slash hopeless crush is struggling with it but i just cant relate  
TG: and i keep doing things wrong and i can see it in him when it happens  
TG: and that shit fuckin hurts lalonde  
TG: a stab through the chest  
TT: The best thing to do is not to push anything.  
TT: Well, not entirely, but if you do, be gentle about it.  
TT: He can be sensitive about things that seem completely arbitrary to you.  
TT: The best you can do is accept those things and make him understand you won’t cause him discomfort.  
TG: i mean i guess i can try  
TG: but you know me i have a terrible habit of not shutting the fuck up  
TT: I’m aware.  
TG: fuck you lalonde  
TT: I’m agreeing with you, but whatever.  
TT: Oh, and another thing.  
TT: Never, ever invalidate his feelings.  
TT: No matter how silly they are, never tell him or imply that what he’s feeling is stupid.  
TT: Treat them as if they’re real concerns.  
TT: Because to him, they are.  
TG: damn thats deep  
TG: ok ill keep that in mind  
TG: thanks lalonde  
TG: sometimes your obsession with understanding people really pays off  
TT: It’s called empathy, Dave.  
TT: But I’m glad to be of service.  
TG: whatever  
TG: talk to you later  
TT: Goodbye, Dave. Have fun suppressing your massive homocrush.  
TG: asdhgf

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist at 15:47 --

 

**John: Be surprised**

You are, in fact, only slightly surprised when Dave shows up unexpected at your door around 4 PM. He seems pretty shaken about the recent discovery of your habit, and now he probably wants to protect you or whatever. You’re not really sure how you feel about that. You know, really, that you should be grateful. And you kind of are. Dave’s presence is a comfort, and he knows how to make you feel better. Most of the time. But then there’s also that part of you that just begs to be left alone, forever. It’s in constant conflict with the part of you that despises loneliness. Your mind’s a fucking mess, but you’ve known that for a while. You’re pretty jaded at this point.

“Honestly, you might as well move here,” you quip to him when you greet him at the front door.

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing before I came here. Bro probably wouldn’t even notice. This house isn’t a death trap either.” Dave lets himself in and you close the door behind him.

“You’re making a pretty good case. I’m almost actually considering it.”

“Dude, I’m only like, half joking.” He gives you a smirk. It gives you a weird feeling in your stomach. You’re not used to that.

“Hehe,” you chuckle nervously. “Let’s think about it later, bro. Wanna watch a movie?”

“The classic Egbert proposal. I must accept,” Dave teases.

You stick your tongue out at him. “You better. Just for your kindness, you may choose today’s film, good sir.”

“Oh mayeth I, good lordeth? I doth thank thee for thine generosity.”

“Dave, I don’t think anyone has ever talked like that,” you remark.

“Whatever. Let’s just watch something actually tolerable for once. I do decree that we shall watch Pulp Fiction.”

“Whatever you say, your majesty.” You prepare the movie while Dave moves to sit down on the couch. Once you get it set up, you go to sit on the couch as well. However, you find that Dave is laying down on it, taking up the entire thing.

“Ahem,” you cough.

“Yes?” Dave inquires, as if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

“I usually prefer to sit while watching movies. And the floor isn’t very comfortable.”

“Psh. The floor is fine. Besides, there’s a seat right here.” Dave pats his torso. You feel flustered for a moment, but recompose yourself.

“Jeez, Dave. Are you trying to flirt with me?” He actually sputters at that. You giggle.

“Dude, I want some brocuddles. Brocuddles with me.”

“Brocuddles, of course, how could I forget?” you tease. You then take him up on his proposal, laying down right on top of him. Your head rests on his chests. You’re surprised by how comfortable he feels. He’s warm, too.

“Wow, you actually make a pretty good bed. Maybe you should monetize it,” you quip.

“You saying I should sell my body, Egbert?” This merits a genuine laugh from you. Dave seems quite pleased by his achievement. You haven’t really laughed like this for a longer amount of time than you’d like to admit. That thought makes you feel sorrowful, because you used to be one of the giggliest people you knew. You try not to think about that. As you relax again, you start to become acutely aware of Dave’s presense underneath you. You notice for the first time now nice he smells. The weird feeling in your stomach is coming back, and you still don’t know what it means.

You find yourself unable to concentrate on the movie. Pulp Fiction isn’t much your thing anyways. You just feel a sudden sense of gratefulness for Dave’s presence. He really cares about you, and really, you’re so lucky to still have him. Despite everything, he’s never distanced himself from you. It may annoy you sometimes during your bad swings, but you know you must mean a lot for him to stay. Dave isn’t the type to bother with people he doesn’t care about. You get the feeling in your face, the one that comes before you start crying. You don’t actually cry, but this realization is hitting you like a brick. You’re so fortunate to have him here. Right now, you don’t want him to ever leave. Maybe him moving in could actually be a good thing.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you mumble.

“What?” he responds.

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay. I heard you anyway,” he chuckles and ruffles your hair. “Feeling’s mutual, bro.” He wraps his arm around you and keeps it there. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy. You could fall asleep like this. In fact, you do.

**Dave: Wake the sleeping Egbert**

Of course, Egbert fell asleep half an hour into the movie. You didn’t want to disturb him, so you just let him be. Besides, you still feel a bit flustered over his remark earlier. You’re glad he really appreciates you. But of course, you’re selfish, and that’s not enough for you. If only he could feel about you the way you feel about him. If only he could understand just how much you mean to him... if only you weren’t a coward. You openly admit that to yourself. You so badly want to tell him, but if there’s any chance it could harm your friendship, it’s too risky.

By now, the movie is over. You figure it’s time to wake him up. But first, you take in the sight of the snoozing boy on top of you. It’s so peaceful. He could be a fucking angel. Fuck.

“You are so beautiful,” you mumble to yourself as you gently play with his hair.

“Mm?” John softly grunts. Shit. He’s not as asleep as you thought.

“I said, you are so heavy. Your dad’s cake is really getting to you.” You hope he buys that cover.

“Haha, fuck you. Not all of us can be mister fucking skeleton.” Damn, Egbert doesn’t fuck around when he’s just woken up.

“Whatever, what do you wanna do now?”

“Mmm... I dunno, I’m already pretty comfy.”

“I am a damn good pillow, but I’d like to move. Get your fat butt off of me,” you tease him. You wonder why you’re even trying, in reality you’d let him lay on you for as long as you want.

“Fine, mister restless.” John rolls off of you, straight onto the floor.

“You good?” you ask. He’s still laying down.

“Yeah, the floor definitely isn’t as comfy.” He gets up after that. You do too.

“Yo, I’m starving. Feeeed me, Egbert.” You stick your arms straight out at John, acting nonsensically.

“Haha, chill. Do you wanna order pizza?” he proposes.

“Hell fuckin yeah. That’s my sustenance.”

John walks over to the study, where his dad is. “Hey dad, can we order pizza?”

“Do whatever you want, as long as I don’t have to pay,” your dad responds.

“Cool.” He walks back over to you. “What do you want on it?”

“Just cheese, honestly. Bro always puts some weird shit on our pizza. Some normal stuff would be nice.” You shudder as you recall his culinary experiments. You consider them all failures.

“Kay, I’ll just get cheese then.” He sits back down on the couch and pulls out his phone, ordering the pizza through an app. Technology is amazing, you ponder.

“Let’s play Mario Kart until he gets here,” John interrupts your thoughts.

“Man, of course you pick the game you always roast me at,” you remark.

“But this could be your chance to beat me. You can’t pass that up, can you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, as if he’s just said something dirty.

“Whatever. You’re on, bro.” Soon, you too are fiercely engaged. To the surprise of no one, he smokes you in the first match, coming in first. You come in seventh. The next game, though, it looks like you might actually win. It’s the third lap, and you’re in second while John is back in fifth. The finish line is coming up. You can actually feel adrenaline running through your body. But then, John uses a damn bullet bill, comes up to you and smacks you, and then passes you to finish in second.

“You bitch!” you burst out and toss your controller to the side. You formulate a plan of attack immediately. You reach your arms to his sides and tickle him like you’ve never tickled him before. John HOWLS with laughter and immediately curls up into the tightest ball he can muster. This doesn’t defer you, though. You grab his legs and start tickling his feet. He tries you kick you off, but your grip is too strong.

“HAHAHAHA, DA-DAVE, HAHAHA, STOP!” he desperately pleads.

“Kids! Don’t make me come in there!” his dad yells from the other room. You know he’s joking, but only partially. Mr. Egbert makes a very effective mediator. You relent at the thought.

“You’re a butt, you sore loser.” John gently kicks you.

“Man, you totally deserved that, fucking sniping me right at the end,” you defend yourself. You stick your tongue out at him.

“Them’s the breaks,” he playfully informs you.

“Ugh. Is our pizza here yet?” you whine.

“It says it should be here in about five minutes. That’s enough time for another round.”

You turn to look at him, mustering your best “are you serious?” face. “Fuck no.”

“Fine, mister chicken,” he taunts.

“I’d rather be a cluckbeast than a ragebeast,” you quip.

“Dude, what the fuck is a cluckbeast?”

“Karkat has a very weird vocabulary. He’s gotta be foreign or some shit, he can be so jarring sometimes.”

“Uh huh. I guess talk to him more than I do.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. You know, he may seem angry, but he’s pretty cool. He only really gets angry when you fuck with him.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just... I dunno. I feel like I haven’t known him long enough. I’m still barely used to him being around us at all,” John sighs.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be comfortable with everyone.” You think Rose would be proud of that response. “As long as you’re comfortable with me,” you joke and put your arm around him.

“Nice one, you’re real smooth,” he jives.

“I know all the moves. Got dudes and chicks swooning left and right. How about you, Egbert? Are you swooning at this hunk of cool?” You give him your best sexy look. If only he knew that was a serious question. He stiffens for a second, which strikes you as odd, but he soon snaps back.

“Oh yes, mister coolkid! Your sexiness is overwhelming!” he says dramatically, putting the back of his hand to his forehead. You give him a noogie in response. While you’re doing that, the doorbell finally rings.

 

 

**John: Eat**

You don’t realize how hungry you are until you actually start eating. Your appetite grows ravenous and all you can really focus on the pizza. Much to your chagrin, you get interrupted after one slice. By your phone. Curious, you pull it out to check it. You have a new message on Pesterchum, from someone you don’t recognize.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 19:14 --

 

CG: IS THIS JOHN?  
EB: uh, yes?  
CG: GOOD, I HAVE SOME THINGS I WOULD LIKE TO DISCUSS WITH YOU.  
EB: who are you, and why are you shouting?  
CG: THE SECOND PART OF THAT SENTENCE SHOULD SOLVE THE FIRST, TO BE QUITE HONEST.  
EB: uh..  
CG: WHO DO YOU KNOW THAT CONSTANTLY SHOUTS AND IS ALSO A FESTERING PILE OF SHIT.  
EB: well, that’s a pretty mean thing to say about yourself!  
CG: OH JESUS CHRIST  
CG: YOU HAVEN’T BEEN VERY NICE TO YOURSELF EITHER, SO I’VE HEARD.  
EB: what??  
EB: how do you know about that?  
CG: THE SUNGLASSES PRICK ISN’T AS STEALTHY AS HE THINKS HE IS.  
EB: dave??  
EB: ok, i need to know who you are.  
CG: ARE YOU WITH HIM?  
CG: ACTUALLY, I’D BE PRETTY SURPRISED IF HE WASN’T, YOU FUCKING COUPLE.  
EB: i’m so confused.  
CG: I REALLY AM TRYING HERE, EGBERT.  
EB: well if you must know, yes he is!!  
EB: now who are you!!  
CG: WHY DON’T YOU ASK HIM.

 

“Hey Dave, do you know who this weird person messaging me is?” You look up to ask him. He’s still munching on pizza, and looks up at you with a full mouth.

“Let me thee,” Dave says with no regard to the contents of his mouth. Gross. You give him your phone.

“Oh, that’s Karkat,” he chuckles. Karkat? Why is he messaging you? You guess it makes sense, though. You can see Dave reading through the conversation.

“That fucking eavesdropper!” Dave smacks his hand on the couch.

“Were you talking about me in front of him?” you demand.

“No, I was talking to Jade about you and we left the table first. I didn’t even see him get up. Fucker must have ears like a bat.”

“Okay, I might as well talk to him and see what he has to say.” You reach your hand out for your phone.

“Wait, can I fuck with him first?”

“Dave, no.”

“Man, why not? He’s really easy to rile up; it’s hilarious.”

“Yeah, but you’re doing it under my name. I will not be slandered!”

“Fine.” Dave tosses your phone and it nearly collides with your chest before you catch it between your hands. “Nice one,” he comments before he starts bumming around on his phone.

EB: ok, karkat, what do you want?  
CG: THERE WE GO.  
CG: BEFORE WE CONTINUE, I MUST ASK YOU TO SWEAR YOUR SECRECY. THIS CONVERSATION WILL NOT BE SHOWN TO ANOTHER SOUL.  
CG: THAT INCLUDES YOUR BOYFRIEND.  
EB: boyfriend??  
CG: DAVE.  
EB: we’re not dating!!!!  
CG: WHATEVER YOU SAY.  
EB: i mean it!  
CG: I NEVER SAID I DIDN’T BELIEVE YOU.  
EB: good!!  
CG: DISREGARDING THAT DISPLAY OF EXTREME DEFENSIVENESS, DO YOU AGREE?  
EB: yeah yeah sure, whatever.  
CG: GOOD. THE BLOOD OATH IS SEALED.  
CG: OUR SACRIFICES HAVE ALREADY BEEN MADE.  
EB: uh...  
CG: SORRY, THAT MAY HAVE BEEN IN POOR TASTE.  
EB: i didn’t even get it.  
CG: THAT’S MY OBTUSE WAY OF SAYING THAT I USED TO CUT MYSELF, TOO.  
EB: oh!!!  
EB: i’m sorry karkat. :(  
CG: DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT. IT’S TAKEN CARE OF. WELL ENOUGH.  
EB: why are you telling me this?  
CG: BECAUSE I WANT TO TELL YOU SOME THINGS YOU NEED TO HEAR.  
EB: uh, okay...  
CG: FIRST OF ALL, I WANT TO ASK, WHAT DO YOU FEEL WHEN YOU ACTUALLY CUT?  
EB: well um...  
EB: i mean i guess i feel sad,  
EB: but like, mainly i just feel angry.  
CG: ANGRY ABOUT WHAT?  
EB: at... myself, i guess.  
CG: LIKE THE FACT THAT YOU’RE SO PATHETIC IS WHAT MAKES YOU ANGRY?  
EB: i suppose.  
CG: AND WHEN YOU DO IT, DOES IT FEEL GOOD TO TAKE THAT ANGER OUT ON YOURSELF?  
EB: you’re describing it really well.  
EB: i guess i have to believe you.  
CG: YOU SHOULD HAVE ALWAYS BELIEVED ME, YOU ASS.  
CG: BUT YEAH, I KNOW EXACTLY HOW THAT FEELS.  
CG: AND I KNOW HOW IT FEELS WHEN YOU KEEP IT UP.  
CG: NOTHING GETS BETTER, I PROMISE.  
EB: you think i don’t know that??  
EB: i do it to feel better for a bit, not to actually cure myself or some shit.  
CG: YEAH, THAT’S WHERE IT GETS YOU.  
CG: YOU GET DESENSITIZED TO THE IDEA, AND SOON IT JUST BECOMES HABIT.  
CG: LIKE A DRUG.  
CG: BUT WHEN I SAID IT DOESN’T GET BETTER, I DIDN’T GET MEAN THAT.  
CG: IT GETS WORSE.  
CG: YOU MUTILATE YOURSELF, START DISREGARDING YOUR OWN VALUE, AND IF IT GOES UNCHECKED, YOU WILL BREAK.  
EB: i’m not quite sure what you mean.  
CG: THERE’S GOING TO COME A POINT WHERE CUTTING ISN’T ENOUGH ANYMORE.  
CG: YOU PROBABLY ALREADY WANT TO DIE, BUT IT BECOMES MORE COMPELLING.  
CG: AND IF YOU LET YOUR DEPRESSION CONVINCE YOU, THAT’S WHEN YOU WILL BREAK.  
CG: THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED TO ME.  
CG: I ENDED UP IN THE HOSPITAL FOR A WEEK. TYLENOL CAN REALLY FUCK WITH YOUR SYSTEM.  
EB: karkat, you’re scaring me...  
CG: IF YOU HAVEN’T GOTTEN IT YET:  
CG: I TRIED TO KILL MYSELF.  
EB: omg :(  
CG: YEAH.  
CG: I DON’T WANT YOU TO END UP IN THE SAME PLACE.  
CG: AS MUCH AS I MAY HATE EVERYONE, I WOULD NEVER WISH IT UPON ANYBODY.  
CG: BEING ON THAT LEDGE IS THE WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD.  
CG: IT’S LITERALLY SO BAD THAT YOU WOULD RATHER DIE.  
CG: AND YOU’RE TOO GOOD FOR THAT, EGBERT. YOU DON’T DESERVE IT.

 

You’re not exactly sure when you started feeling like you were about to cry, but suddenly the gravity of the situation is really hitting you hard. Dave probably notices, because he looks up at you.

“Dude, are you okay? Is he being a prick to you? Cause I will fuck him up,” Dave asserts.

“No, no it’s nothing like that. I’m fine.”

“Can I at least see what he’s saying?” Dave starts to lean over. At that, you suddenly take a really defensive stance, turning the phone away from him and backing away.

“No! I promised him I’d keep it a secret.”

“What the fuck is he saying to you that has to be secret? Sounds shady as shit.”

“I promise, it needs to be secret. If he were really up to no good, I’d tell you. I’m not defenseless, Dave.”

“Fine,” Dave grumbles. “Just don’t see what he could talk to you about that could be so private,” He still looks concerned. “And he was talking about your, uh, thing too, and I just... I dunno.”

“Well don’t worry about it, cause it’s not your fucking business,” you say surprisingly aggressively, even to yourself. Dave pokerfaces in reaction, which you can tell means that upset him. You feel shitty, but you can’t bring yourself to apologize, so you focus back on your other conversation.

EB: thanks, i guess.  
CG: YOU’RE WELCOME.  
EB: i’m not sure what to do with that, though.  
EB: i can’t just stop feeling bad or anything.  
CG: I KNOW.  
CG: IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT THAT YOU’VE DONE IT. EVEN IF YOU DO IT AGAIN, IT’S STILL NOT YOUR FAULT.  
CG: I GUESS I’M REALLY JUST TRYING TO STOP YOU FROM FALLING INTO THE SAME PIT.  
EB: i mean i’ve already had conversations like this. they’re reassuring, but in the end they don’t make me feel better.  
CG: IT MIGHT NOT SEEM THAT WAY AT FIRST, BUT KEEP YOURSELF CLOSE TO THOSE PEOPLE.  
CG: AT THE PEAK OF MY DEPRESSION, I SHUT EVERYONE OUT. I REFUSED ALMOST ALL INTERACTION. SO, OF COURSE, I FELT LONELIER THAN EVER, AND FELT LIKE MORE SHIT FOR DOING THAT. AND ON AND ON.  
CG: FRANKLY, I’M AMAZED I STILL HAVE FRIENDS.  
CG: TRUST ME JOHN, IT WON’T GET BETTER QUICKLY.  
CG: I STILL KIND OF HATE MYSELF. I’M STILL EASILY ANGERED.  
CG: BUT I’M NOT AS BAD AS I USED TO BE.  
CG: SO EVEN IF YOU SINK AS LOW AS I DID, YOU CAN STILL CLIMB OUT.  
CG: I GUESS THAT’S THE APEX OF WHAT I WANTED TO COMMUNICATE.  
CG: DO YOU UNDERSTAND, AT LEAST?  
EB: i guess.  
EB: it’s not very inspiring though.  
CG: IT’S HARD TO MAKE SUFFERING FROM DEPRESSION INSPIRING.  
CG: BUT IF NOTHING ELSE GETS TO YOU, LET ME ALSO SAY THIS.  
CG: THOSE SCARS DON’T GO AWAY.  
CG: I HAVE TO WATCH THE LENGTH OF MY SHORTS.  
CG: SURE, YOU CAN CHOOSE TO EXPOSE THEM, BUT EVERYONE FEELS THE NEED TO ACT LIKE A PRICK ABOUT IT, OR JUST TREAT YOU WEIRDLY.  
CG: THE SCARS AREN’T YOUR FAULT, BUT PEOPLE LIKE TO TREAT THEM AS IF THEY ARE.  
CG: JUST SOMETHING TO KEEP IN MIND.  
CG: I’M GOING TO GO NOW, I’VE PROBABLY EXPOSED WAY MORE ABOUT MYSELF THAN I SHOULD HAVE, REALLY.  
EB: bye.  
EB: and karkat?  
CG: WHAT?  
EB: thanks. really.  
CG: NO FUCKING PROBLEM.  
CG: PEACE.

 

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 19:39 --  


**Dave: Observe**

While John is busily talking to Karkat for whatever reason, you secretly watch him. You can see him grimace a couple times, and most notably his whole mood seems to decline. You’re not comfortable with this, but John was unusually standoffish when you tried to find out what was going on. He actually yelled at you, which is something he pretty much never does, even to people he doesn’t like. He’s always reserved, and it baffles you as to what could rile him up so much. It hurt, but you put it behind you pretty quickly and decide to stay out of it. It’s clearly very personal. Still, you can’t help but feel curious. Eventually, he puts his phone away. His expression when he does makes him look like a sad puppy. You want to squeeze the sadness right out of him.

It seems that John actually has a similar idea, because after a moment he decides to flop down on top of you, his head on your chest. You two seem to end up arranged like this a lot, not that you object. He lets out a long groan but otherwise doesn’t say anything.

“What’s up, bro?” you gently prod, trying to see if he’ll let any details slip.

“Nothing,” he mumbles, predictably.

“Yeah, your sad expression, groaning, and sudden need for affection seem to say so.”

“Fuck off,” he says, but you know he isn’t serious. “Actually, don’t, because this is nice.”

“You’re lucky that you get the friends and family 100% discount,” you joke.

“Other people get to do this for free? Now I don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

“Fine, it’s the John Egbert 100% discount,” you smirk.

“Good,” he smiles. It’s short-lived, though, and he falls back into his melancholy.

“He didn’t hurt you or anything, did he?” you worry.

“No. Actually, he may have helped. I dunno. I’d tell you more if I could, but I really can’t.”

“I believe you,” you reassure him. You wonder what he could mean, though. Eventually you decide to just not think about it, because it doesn’t seem like you’re going to get anywhere. You start idly playing with his hair, and he responds by sighing deep into you and closing his eyes. He looks fucking angelic. You’re lost in your thoughts of hopeless romance until they’re interrupted by the sound of someone else.

You crane your neck and see that John’s dad is coming out of his study. When he notices your arrangement, he stops for a moment and makes eye contact with you. You’re not really sure what his facial expression is trying to convey, but it’s not bad. It actually looks happy, in a proud kind of way only a dad can express. Not that you would know very well. The moment ends and he goes upstairs without saying anything. Fuck, even Mr. Egbert can probably tell how you feel.

That thought sends a feeling of determination through you. You can’t keep putting this off. You really, really need to tell him. The tension you’ve been feeling has been growing, and you know that he needs you around. He wouldn’t be scared away just because of something like a crush. You’ve been best bros for ages, and he completely trusts you. You can see it in the way he nestles himself into you, how it comforts him.

“Hey, uh, John?” you ask with uncertainty. Your heart is pounding. You wonder if he can feel it.

“Yeah?” he looks up at you. Suddenly, your faces are very close, and his eyes are looking straight into yours. They’re so dazzlingly blue. It makes you feel like you’re looking right into his soul. And his soul intimidates you. Suddenly your heart starts beating faster, and you can barely even bring yourself to speak.

“I, uh, I-I...” you stutter, looking like a complete idiot. This doesn’t help at all.

“Dude, are you okay?” He looks concerned now. You can’t do this. You fucked it up. It’s too late. You need to get away.

“I have to pee,” you blurt and basically throw John off of you. You power walk up to the bathroom and lock yourself in. Looking in the mirror, you can see how pathetic you look. Your face is flushed and you’re even sweating a bit. Jesus Christ, you’re not nearly as brave as you make yourself out to be. You sit on the toilet and let your head fall into your hands. You wonder if you’ll ever even be able to tell him.

 

 

**John: Be very confused**

What the hell just happened. You lie there puzzled on the couch, still in the awkward position Dave flung you into when he faked having to go to the bathroom. It was really obvious that that was not what he left to do. He basically ran away from, and you’re stumped as to why. The more you think about it, and the longer Dave doesn’t come back, the more you agonize over it. What did you do wrong?

Fuck, maybe you’ve been too overbearing, and it’s starting to scare him. How much you’ve needed him to comfort you, even just now, after your rather distressing conversation with Karkat. Maybe he’s finally had too much. You can see it. You can hardly function on your own, and you’ve put the brunt of the burden on him. Fuck, you’re awful. How could you have expected Dave to put up with your constant neediness? You’ve worn him out, and now you’re gonna be alone again. That thought alone drives you to tears.

You run up the stairs, into your room and lock the door. You tumble onto your bed and start to sort through your thoughts as you continue to sob into your pillow. Everything had felt so nice; even lying there with Dave was already starting to make you feel better. He’s been such a good friend to you, probably more than you deserve. He’s always been concerned for you when you had problems; he’ll always watch the movies you like no matter how bad he says they are. You two know pretty much everything about each other, and you feel completely comfortable around him.

When you think about it, the relationship you have with Dave surpasses anyone else in your life. There’s your dad, but he doesn’t count. You love Rose and Jade too, but not like you love Dave. That last thought gives you a pit in your stomach and a weird feeling in your chest. How much do you love Dave? You’ve always considered yourself straight. You’ve never really felt attracted to a guy, but the same goes for girls, really. It’s just something you haven’t really focused on, teenage hormones be damned. In fact, your celebrity crush is Nic Cage. Maybe you’re not as straight as you thought. It’s not that thought that really scares you. You’ve never concerned yourself with anyone’s sexuality, and that fact continues to yourself as well.

No, it’s the thought of being in love with Dave. Do you think you could be? Fuck, you really don’t know. You can’t rule it out, because Dave makes you feel like no one else does, that’s for sure. But you can’t tell if it’s just you appreciating how supportive he is of you, or if you really want to kiss his dumb face. God damn.

It’s not like it really matters, anymore. It looks like you’ve already scared him off. No way he could feel the same. Are you even gonna be friends anymore? The thought of not being friends with Dave is too painful for you to handle. It’s like a stab to the chest, and you let out a loud, pathetic wail, followed by silently choking out tears into your pillow. God, when did you become this pitiful? Your thoughts are disturbed by a knock at your door.

“John?” Dave wants to talk now. You’re not sure you can face him. You hear him jiggle the doorknob. “Why did you lock the door? Can you let me in?”

You sigh, and find yourself unable to refuse. You get up and do your best to dry your tears, although you can’t imagine it’s very successful. You unlock the door and open it to one distressed Dave. His face turns to one of surprise when he sees the state you’re in.

“Woah, dude, you ok? What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you respond, still sounding miserable.

“My ass.” He comes and hugs you, which comes as a surprise. “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He tenses. “If, uh, if that’s what happened...”

“Really, don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem,” you try to reassure him.

“Your problems are my problems, bro. But if you really don’t wanna talk about it, that’s okay.” You smile at that. Maybe you were overreacting. It would be par for the course. Overreacting has basically become a hobby of yours. Dave drags you over to the bed, never breaking the hug. He knocks the both of you on to it so you’re laying side by side.

“Thanks,” you tell him again. You seem to be saying that a lot lately.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He gives you a genuine smile. You wish you could see his eyes. Then you remember your previous conundrum of trying to figure out how you feel about Dave. You ponder it again, now with him next to you. Thing is, you don’t really know where the line between friendship and romance is. Or if there even is one. It makes the whole thing worse.

“Dude, you look pretty beat. Do you wanna go to bed?” he asks.

“Dave, it’s like eight thirty.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Now that you think about it, you do feel pretty exhausted. A long, hard cry can really wear you out.

“Yeah, I guess,” you relent. “I need to ask you something, though.”

“Yeah?” he looks at you confusedly.

“What happened earlier?” you cautiously inquire.

“Oh, uh, I just remembered that I might have a big project due tomorrow, so I had to go and check. Turns out it’s not due till next week.” He looks visibly nervous, and you can tell he’s lying through his teeth. Not one of his better excuses. Nevertheless, you decide not to push any further. He obviously doesn’t want to tell you, and maybe you don’t want to hear the answer.

The two of you get dressed for bed and get under the covers.

“Are you even gonna be able to fall asleep this early?” you ask him.

“Meh. I’ll get there.”

“Really, you don’t have to fucking go to sleep just for me.”

“It’s not cause I have to, it’s cause I want to,” he defends. That comment makes you blush, and you turn your head down to try and conceal it. Man, he really is too fucking good for you. You’re not sure how comfortable you are with that. You are comfortable with Dave’s presence, though, so you decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth and snuggle up to him. He’s always so warm, and despite his skinny figure he still has a way of being comfortable. You’re overcome with a feeling of giddiness and, in such good comfort, you’re out like a light.

 

 

**John: Wake up and smell the roses**

You do wake up, but there isn’t a Rose here to smell. There is however, a Dave, and his smell is pretty nice. There’s a little bit of deodorant there, but mostly it’s just Dave’s natural smell. And it’s pretty nice, if you do say so yourself. You suppose being comforted by him so much would lead to this result. It’s time for school, though, so you unfortunately have to get out of bed. Dave groans, but he doesn’t open his eyes or make any attempt to get up. His morning routine is really short, anyways, so you don’t bother him yet.

You look at him lying in bed. That when feelings really hit you. This is something you wish you could always experience. You want to wake up to him every morning and watch him laze around in bed while you’re actually being productive. You want to cuddle up with him whenever you want. You want to play video games and watch movies and go out to town with him all the time. You don’t want him to go home. You care about him so much and even looking at him makes your heart flutter. You want him around, always. You never want to stop being friends with him. If that’s not love, what is?

And that thought scares you to his core. Even though you’ve been mostly convinced that Dave doesn’t hate you, you still doubt he could feel the same way about you. As far as you can see, there isn’t anything about you that merit those kinds of feelings toward you. As you fall into your downward spiral of pessimism, Dave notices the fact that you’re unintentionally staring at him.

“Hey, I know I’m a beautiful sight to behold, but your staring is kind of weird,” Dave says groggily. His voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, uh, sorry, I just, uh,” your face heads up and you quickly leave the room to brush your teeth. You then go downstairs to eat breakfast, but find that you can’t actually stomach anything right now. Soon enough, Dave comes down to you sitting at an empty table.

“Dude, you alright?” he asks.

“I, uh, don’t really feel good. I think I’m gonna ask dad if I can stay home,” you lie. Well, it’s true, but not in the physical sense.

“You sure, bro?”

“Yeah, I feel like I might throw up. You haven’t been sick lately, have you?” you keep up the ruse.

“Uh, no, but if you say so. Are you gonna be okay here by yourself?”

“Dave, it’s not like being here by myself is unusual.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Alright. Feel better bro.” He ruffles your hair and heads out the door. “Later.”

“Bye,” you call out, unenthused.

You need some time to process your epiphany by yourself. You’re really not feeling school right now. You can manage a day off. When your dad comes down, you tell him the same thing you told Dave. He has no problem believing it, and tells you to drink fluids and get rest. Normal parent stuff. You wave him off and return to your room.

You lie down on your bed and start to think about Dave some more. So you’re in love with him. You really can’t deny it now. So what the fuck do you do? It’s not like you can just tell him. Your mind would never let you.

_Think about how repulsed he’ll be. Pathetic John Egbert, falling in love with one of the few people who actually cares about him. So stupid. You’re just setting yourself up for disappointment. You’re too shit for anyone to actually love you back._

These thoughts plague your mind, and you feel paralyzed by inner turmoil. You’re not exactly sure when it happened, but you fall asleep feeling like this.

**== >**

When you wake up, it’s already dark out. Man, you slept for a long time. Maybe you really did need some rest. But now you don’t know what to do. It’s not like your problem has gone away. In fact, in your groggy state, they make you feel even worse. You don’t cry, though. It just pulls you down like a boulder. You start feeling numb, almost empty, even. Everything loses its purpose. In your state of hopelessness, you go back to your knife.

Karkat’s words replay in your head. How you can turn to self-harm for comfort. But that doesn’t dissuade you. If anything, it persuades you. You need some comfort right now, and if this will give it to you, so be it. You don’t care enough to fight.

The feeling fails to disappoint. You’re not cutting like you’ve cut before. You’re not angry. You’re hopeless, sunken. You’re flooded with apathy. The sight of your own mutilation doesn’t disturb you like it should. You revel in this feeling. You’re beyond sadness. It’s just nothingness now. The pain feels right. It’s what you need; it’s what you deserve. Fuck you.

**== >**

Dave doesn’t come over for the rest of the week, or the entire week afterwards. Apparently his grades have been slipping, and his bro actually decided to do something that can be classified as parenting.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 17:38 --

 

TG: dude this is some bullshit  
TG: shit to the bull  
TG: apparently i need to get a good grade on my gov test next week before he stops hounding my ass  
EB: that sucks.  
TG: and the thing is even which i paid attention in that class  
TG: which lets face it no one does  
TG: i still wouldnt know shit  
TG: bc my teacher doesnt teach shit  
TG: but bros not having any of that  
TG: since when does he even care  
TG: i thought i was just his sparring partner who happened to live in the same apartment  
EB: maybe you underestimate him.  
TG: haha no fuck him  
TG: jesus christ im so fucking  
TG: fdskjl;f  
TG: youre smart teach me about the us government  
EB: no thanks.  
TG: come on man  
TG: bros before... whatever metaphorical hoes you have in your life  
EB: dave, i wonder how much you could have learned in the time you spent in this conversation.  
TG: deep down i know thats true but i refuse to admit it  
EB: i think that qualifies as admitting it.  
TG: stfu  
EB: ok.  
EB: bye.  
TG: wait what  
TG: are you joking i cant tell  
EB: maybe rose can help you.  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] is no longer connected! --  
TG: uh

 

God, you are just in the worst mood right now. Ever since your meltdown last week, that feeling of emptiness hasn’t really gone away. You find yourself being very low energy and more easily irritable. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone passive-aggressive on one of your friends in the past couple weeks. Yesterday it got to the point where you actually stormed over to Karkat’s former table. Vriska tried to be chummy with you, but you ignored her in favor of laying your head on the table for the rest of the break. Nobody else commented on your presence afterwards.

But you don’t really understand why you get like this. Nobody has to do anything wrong to set you off. Anything that doesn’t go the way you want it to can set you off into this mood where everything pisses you off, and it’s hard to calm down when you can’t just leave school. It makes you feel like a spoiled brat. How far can you go before you manage to lose your friends? You find it increasingly hard to care enough to maintain your friendships. It terrifies you.

Then, your phone starts ringing. It’s Dave, of course. You debate for a second whether or not to pick up. However, you’re still in that shitty mood, so you really don’t want to talk to Dave again right now. You could let it go to voicemail, but you find yourself hitting decline instead. You get a strange, almost sadisticly satisfying feeling from making sure Dave knows you hung up on purpose. This is the boy you’re in love with, and yet you’re willing to be this petty over nothing.

This is the argument you have to deal with in your head all the time. It’s exhausting, and it makes you even angrier that you can’t have any peace, ever. You successfully resist the urge to chuck your phone at the wall, opting to just toss it on the bed before going downstairs. Unsure of what you actually came down to do, you just lie on the couch. You could put on a movie, but now that you’re here you don’t have the energy to get back up. This is the most apt description of your recent status. You’re just lying there, doing nothing, with absolutely no willpower. You curl up, facing the back of the couch, and squeeze your eyes shut. Maybe if you stay like this long enough you’ll actually shrivel up into nothing, and then all your problems will be gone. Because you are your problem. And you just want it to go away.

Not much later, your dad arrives home from work. Seeing you on the couch, he asks gently if you’re awake. You consider pretending not to be, but settle with letting out a simple groan.

“Are you alright, son?” he asks.

“Yeah. ‘M fine,” you lie into the couch.

“It sure doesn’t seem like it.” He comes to sit down on the couch at your feet. Why won’t he just go away. You want to be left alone. Maybe forever.

“Did something happen?” he continues.

“Define happen,” you try to be as stubborn as possible.

“Is it something with Dave? He hasn’t been around for a couple days.”

“Not really. He’s just grounded or whatever,” you mumble.

“Oh. What for?”

“His grades are bad.”

“Oh. Shame.” He pauses for a second. “Actually, speaking of that, I’ve been looking at your grades John, and, uh, you don’t seem to be doing hot lately, either. Does this have to do with that?” God, can he please just go away?

“I’m not upset because of bad grades.” That statement is true. You suppose this does have to do with your grades, though. It’s just that your grades have taken a hit due to your heightening status as a useless piece of shit, and not the other way around.

“Then why are you upset?”

You don’t respond. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, either, but you know he can see your expression.

“John... I’ve always been proud of you. I’m still proud of you. I’m proud to have you as my son. I’m proud to have known you as long as I have. And I’ve always known you as a cheerful jokester who always aspired to do his best. You’ve always been outgoing and never were ashamed to be who you are. Something happened to that John. I’ve been noticing it for a while, and I’d hoped it was just a phase. But now...” You know your dad’s just trying to understand, but it’s not as if this is making you feeling any better. Yeah, you used to actually be something and now you’re an expired bag of flesh. You already know that.

“I just... wish I knew what was going on in your head,” he continues. Then he lets out a sniffle. Shit, is he crying? There may not be anything as emotionally stabbing as seeing your own parent cry. It’s this thought that finally drives you to feel something substantial. Soon, you’re crying too.

“I’m sorry,” you squeak out, still not looking at him. “I don’t want you to hurt just because of my... stuff,” you censor yourself.

“Not knowing that stuff is what hurts me.”

You finally get up from your current position and sit next to your dad so you’re leaning into him. He puts his arm around you, and you can see that his eyes are red and puffy. You’re still crying yourself.

“I... can’t,” you admit.

“Can’t what?”

“Tell you about it.”

“Is it a secret?”

“No, I just... can’t. I’m messed up. Oh god, I’m so messed up,” you sob. You lay your face in your left hand.

“If you don’t feel comfortable telling me, you don’t have to. I just want you to know that I’ll never think badly of you. I hope you know that. I love you.”

His last declaration gives you a brief moment of determination, and you consider pulling up the sleeve of your hoodie. Then you wouldn’t even have to say anything. But... oh, god, it would hurt him so much. He doesn’t deserve to see his son like that. Some of the recent ones haven’t even scarred yet, like the ones from yesterday. You can’t bring yourself to do it. You can’t do that to your dad.

“I love you too,” you muster out eventually. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he lets you lie there without saying anything else. Both of you remain like that for a few minutes before you feel the need to be alone again. You excuse yourself to your room.

 

 

**Dave: Wonder what just happened**

Shit, what just happened? All you did was rant to John a little and (jokingly (maybe)) ask him for help, and somehow you managed to piss him off to the point where he passive-aggressively tells you to go fuck yourself and then ignores you. You tried calling him, but he hung up on you. He didn’t even let it go to voicemail. He really doesn’t want to talk to you. And that worries the shit out of you.

You rack your brain, thinking of what you could have done wrong, but nothing really comes up. Maybe he really didn’t like you assuming he was good at US government? No, that’s stupid. You’ve asked him for help before and he’s been happy to provide it, so you know that wouldn’t be it. Maybe he’s just getting tired of you. Shit, have you been overbearing? Except you’ve barely been able to see him for almost two weeks because of goddamn Bro. And in any case, none of these things would drive John away from you. He likes you too much for that. Or at least you think. With all the stuff that’s been going on with him, you’re not sure how well you know him anymore.

You decide to consult the one person who won’t taunt you like a fucking tool.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 18:30 --

 

TG: hey you wouldnt know if something happened to egbert today would you  
GG: no, why?? :O  
TG: cause he just totally flipped out on me  
TG: but in like a passive aggressive way  
TG: and now hes ignoring me  
GG: how do you know hes ignoring you???  
TG: cause i called him and he hung up on me and then wouldnt answer me  
GG: that’s so weird!! :O  
GG: it’s not like john to do that :(  
TG: yeah ik im worried  
TG: idk if hes pissed off at me or what  
GG: i’m going to try calling him  
GG: hold on a sec  
GG: it went to voicemail... :(  
TG: ok well at least its not me then  
TG: id just drive over but bro is a shit and took my keys  
GG: we might just have to wait until tomorrow... :/  
GG: or monday  
TG: fuck man  
TG: i guess youre right but i worry about him a lot lately  
GG: me too :(  
GG: i hope hes not... hurting himself again  
TG: fuck now im even more worried  
GG: sorry :(  
TG: well theres not much i can do now  
TG: except keep pestering him until he answers  
TG: so i guess ill talk to you later  
GG: ok bye!!  
GG: good luck dave!!!

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 18:40 --

 

It’s not until tomorrow that John actually comes back online. You message him immediately.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EG] at 11:21 --

 

TG: yo  
EB: wow, someone’s been waiting.  
TG: yeah cause you scared me  
EB: sorry.  
TG: are you still mad at me  
EB: i wasn’t mad at you.  
TG: well  
TG: do you feel better than last night then  
EB: what?  
TG: dont be coy with me egbert  
TG: something was troubling you yesterday  
EB: amazing observation.  
EB: unfortunately that pretty much describes me all the time.  
TG: egbert please  
TG: somethings up and im worried about you  
EB: ok, i’m sorry.  
EB: i feel bad about dropping you like that yesterday but it wasn’t about you.  
EB: so don’t worry, ok?  
TG: thats not all im worried about  
TG: your mood has been getting worse lately and dont think i havent noticed  
TG: and its scaring me cause i feel like im watching my best friend die from the inside out  
TG: and i cant do anything  
TG: fuck sorry i just  
TG: i care about you a lot ok  
EB: i care about you too.  
EB: i wish you could come over.  
TG: i wish i could too  
TG: oh hey you know what  
TG: i totally just remembered pesterchum does video  
TG: you have a webcam right  
EB: yeah  
TG: do you wanna video chat then  
EB: yeah, ok.  
\-- turntechGodhead has requested to open video --

 

“There’s that pretty face,” you open. That sounded corny as shit but oh fucking well. You notice him look down, and shit he might actually be blushing.

“Hey Dave,” John replies meekly.

“I miss you,” you say, throwing away all your shame.

“We saw each other yesterday.”

“Yeah, but it was either while I was driving or at lunch, and that shit’s just not the same.”

“I guess.” He rests his chin in his hand, and his expression is unusually blank.

“You okay, bud?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I dunno. You’ve seemed low energy lately, and you still do.”

“It’s just... normal stuff, I guess.”

“That shouldn’t be normal.” There’s a brief pause. “You aren’t keeping anything important from me, are you?”

“What qualifies as important?” he retorts.

“Any bad stuff you’ve been feeling. I want to know about it so I can help you.”

“If I told you about all the bad stuff I’ve been feeling, I’d never stop talking to you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Meh.”

You decide to ask a risky question. Hopefully this won’t scare him away, but you need to ask.

“You haven’t been hurting yourself, have you?”

Suddenly John’s expression turns to one of shock and then of guilt. He looks away from the camera and doesn’t say anything. Fuck.

“John...”

Shit, he’s about to cry. You can see it in his face. You might cry, too. You really don’t want to do that where Bro can see you.

“Show me your arm,” you command. He doesn’t resist, pulling down the sleeve of his left arm. There are more cuts. You can tell that some of them are only freshly scabbled. But there are more that haven’t even scabbed yet. He must have done those in the past day or so. Fuck fuck fuck. You’re trying really hard not to cry right now.

“Why-why didn’t you tell me or someone?” you choke back tears. His expression softens but still looks melancholic.

“I can’t. You know why I’ve seemed so low energy lately? Cause I am. My willpower is gone. You know how hard it is just to get myself out of bed? To get through school? To do any of my work at home? Everything’s a struggle and nothing seems fucking worth it. The pain is soothing. And I can’t give it up cause I’ve got nothing else. There’s nothing for me.” He seems more frustrated than sad by the end. You think you could actually feel your heart break listening to him. Your attempt to keep from crying fails.

“God, I don’t think you know how much it hurts me to hear you say that,” you tell him with tears running down your face.

“Yeah, well, my entire life hurts me. I’m sorry if that messes with your feelings,” he states, with a hint of resentfulness in his voice. “It doesn’t change what’s true though. I can barely feel anything anymore. I’m just numb. Nothing matters anymore, and I’m tired. Tired of it all,” he rants. You can’t help letting out a loud sob. Soon, there’s a banging on your door.

“Hey, are you crying in there?” you hear Bro shout.

“What the fuck do you care?” you shout back. You can’t deal with his bullshit right now. He opens the door, clearly signaling his intent to not leave you alone.

“You need to fucking chill, bro. Don’t be such a fucking wuss.” Holy shit, he’s such a tool.

“Fuck off!” you shout, and you grab the nearest item and hurl it at his head, which happens to be a full bottle of apple juice. He barely manages to duck in time. You turn back to your computer.

“You need to fuckin’ watch yourself, yer already in some shit.”

“Bro,” you say as calmly as you can, still not looking at him. “Give me my keys.”

“Hah! Why the fuck would I do that? You still gotta take that damn test.”

“I’m not asking you; I’m telling you. Give. Me. My. Keys.”

“I dunno what’s gotten into you, but you need ta fix that attitude of yours.”

You stand up and quickly grab your sword from the wall. You face him, point at him, and then give him a thumbs down. It’s strife time. You know he can’t refuse. That’s because he always wins.

“Whoa, we’ve got a real brave one here today. You’re on, kid.”

“Dave, what are you doing?” you can hear John shout from the computer. You ignore him, and run up to the rooftop while Bro gets his own sword. You’re not actually sure how you’re gonna beat him. But your resentment toward your bro and passion for your best friend are here to energize you. That’s right, you’re running on the power of _love_. That shit always wins in the movies.

Soon, Bro comes up and the match is on. He moves as quickly as he normally does, but your reflexes are faster than they’ve ever been. You’ve also gotten used to the way he fights. He’s as predictable as ever, and with your heightened senses, you use that to your advantage. It takes about 15 minutes, in which he almost knocks you down a few times. Eventually, you decide to ram him in the side, which sends him toppling over and his sword flies out of his hand. You’re not sure if that’s cheating, but you don’t really care.

“I’m taking my keys now,” you assert.

“You little shit–” You give him a swift kick in the shins for good measure. It feels satisfying.

“God, I can’t wait to move out of this hellhole,” you say as you leave the roof. You go to your brother’s room, and he didn’t even try to hide your keys. They’re sitting on his desk. You snag them and then bolt out the door before anything else happens.

You hurry over to John’s. The door’s unlocked, so you just walk in. The Egberts don’t really mind at this point. You don’t see him in the living room, so you figure he’s still in his bedroom. You knock on his door. John’s voice replies with a “What?”

“Can I come in?”

“Dave?”

You open the door. “Yep.” He gets up and runs over to hug you.

“Did you really fight your brother just to come here?”

“I did, and I fucking won, too.”

“That was stupid.”

“I’m here with you now, so it must not have been that stupid.” Shit, you wonder if that was too forward. You notice John trying to hide a blush again. He’s so cute, shit.

“Won’t he punish you even harder when you get home?” John asks with worried eyes.

“Meh, he’ll get over it by then. It’s not like he really cares that much about me.”

“It really sucks to hear you say that.”

“Yeah, well, it sucks to live it, so whatever.” You’re a little riled up, but you try not to express it.

“Well, I care about you.” Your heart flutters a little.

“Thanks,” you giggle.

You proceed to have normal hangout fun times, and everything is okay, at least for a little while.

 

 

**John: Shatter**

It’s two weeks later, which means it’s almost Christmas! Christmas has always been your favorite holiday. You get to celebrate with your dad and your friends and exchange presents. And there’s no school. What could be better?

Unfortunately, you are just not in the Christmas spirit this year. Despite all the decorations, all the Christmas music, and all the other festivities that come with the season, you just can’t get excited. This isn’t really strange to you by now, though. You haven’t been able to get excited about anything lately. You hate it. You just can’t feel happy about anything. And the worse you get, the less you tell your friends. Rose and Jade have still been busy will school. It’s only Dave who really has time to see you. But now, you have to suppress your feelings around him. It’s driving you over the edge.

That edge happens to be the week before Christmas break. You wake up in a worse mood than usual. You pretty much put in as little effort as possible, and do your best not to talk to anyone. Even your friends. They notice, and eventually you start avoiding them. You can’t avoid Dave when it’s time to go home, though. And he won’t leave the topic alone.

“What’s been up today, man?” he asks as you leave the parking lot. You’re still not in the mood to talk, so you opt to stare out the window instead.

“Sorry, I’m just... I’m really worried about you. You’ve been keeping everything to yourself lately, I can tell. It’s not healthy, and you’re not gonna get any better like this.”

You burst. “I don’t need to be fucking babysat. I know I’m not getting any better. I know it better than anyone else! And you know what? I don’t care! That’s it! I don’t care about myself at all! And when you try to care, I know you mean well, but all it does is make me feel worse. Sorry.”

Dave looks at you, stunned. His expression is one of pure hurt. Fuck, you really can’t deal with this right now.

“Please just drop me off,” you state.

“I just feel so helpless. You’re falling apart and... I can’t lose you, John,” he says desparately.

“Lose me?”

“Yeah.”

You try not to think about that. He lets you off at your house. He asks if he can hang here, but you decline him. You give him a simple wave before going inside. Your dad isn’t home, of course, so it’s just you, alone.

Now that you’re finally isolated, your emotions come out in full force. Mostly you just feel rage. Rage at yourself and your life. You can’t stand yourself. You can’t stand feeling how you feel all the time. It’s fucking torture. You’re filled to the brim with despair, and you don’t think you can take it anymore. Dave’s words echo in your mind.

_I can’t lose you, John._

Too bad you’re already lost.

Your heart is beating a mile a minute and you can barely breathe. Another panic attack. They’ve become familiar by now, but no less bearable. You ball yourself up on the couch, trying to wait it out. But your head hurts and your chest hurts and goddamn you need vent. You take out your phone and impulsively call Jade.

“Jade,” you choke out as soon as she picks up.

“John? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I–No, no! I’m not okay.” You can’t keep it to yourself anymore

“What’s wrong?” Jade worries.

“Everything, everything’s fucking wrong! I can’t... Jade, I’m sorry.”

“For what? John, you’re scaring me!”

“For everything. You’re such a sweet person and you’re always so nice and I don’t deserve it.” You’re sniffling at this point, barely away from full on crying.

“John, please don’t say that! I know you may not think it but I promise you you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m your friend, and I don’t want that to stop! Please, John, you’ve been scaring us more and more recently, and I really think you need to do something! You can’t handle this on your own, and, I–I care about you too much to–to see you like this.” You’re pretty sure she’s crying now too, and you cannot handle this.

“I’m so sorry, Jade,” you choke out before hanging up. She quickly tries to call back, but you decline. She then messages you but you ignore it.

You think about what she said. You need to do something. You’re falling apart. At this point, you feel so weak. There’s only one thing you can think about doing right now, and maybe you will. But not quite yet.

Against your own reservations, you decide to call Rose.

“John?” she answers as she picks up the phone. “Are you ok?”

“Why do you ask that?” you return, your voice clearly indicative of your distress.

“Because I’m not the first person you called.”

“Can’t I talk to anyone without everyone else hearing about it? God damn!”

“Not when you’re scaring us like this. John, your behavior has still been declining, and now you’re giving us scary messages like these. Please, can you talk to me? Or any one of us? You can’t do this on your own; I know you can’t.”

You don’t respond. You can’t think of anything to say that isn’t either mean nor even more worrisome. In all of this, you still can’t bring yourself to tell your friends about your problems most of the time. You can’t burden them like that. They don’t deserve it. They deserve better than that. They deserve better than you. The world deserves better than you.

You think you’ve made up your mind.

“No. I can’t. I’m sorry Rose. Just rememeber nothing is your fault. It’s never been your fault,” you sob. You can’t contain your crying anymore. You’ve lost most of your remaining will to care, too, because there’s nothing to care about anymore.

“John! What isn’t my fault? Please tell–” You hang up. You can’t deal with this. You can’t deal with anything anymore. You’re too weak. You’re so terrible you can’t stand it. Nobody needs to worry about your sorry ass ever again.

But you have to call Dave first. You still love him, even if it doesn’t matter anymore.

“Hey,” you greet him when he picks up, trying to sound calm.

“Sup. Are you ready to talk?”

“No. I just wanted to say I’m s-sorry.” You fail to keep up your illusion of calmness, because you’re already back to crying.

“Sorry for what? Egbert, what’s wrong?”

“Everything, but maybe not anymore.”

“What does that mean?” He sounds desparate now. Maybe that was more obvious than you intended. Shit.

“Nothing. I just... Dave, you’ve been my best fucking friend for as long as I’ve known you.”

“You too, buddy. I don’t ever want that to stop.” Those words are like a stab through the heart.

“I’m so grateful to have had you in my life. You’ve been so good to me, and I just... thanks.”

“John, you’re really scaring me. You’re making it sound like that’s going to end. Please don’t tell me you’re doing what I think you’re doing.” You can hear the pain in his voice. You wish you could tell him now. But it stills scares you. You’re about to die and you’re still it still scares you. _I love you._

_Oh well, it’s not like it matters anymore. It’s not like he would ever want you like that._

“Dave, I’m tired. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I can’t help but worry about you!”

“I’m sorry Dave. I never deserved you.” You hang up before he can respond.

With your heart and your brain sufficiently broken, there’s nothing stopping you now. You need to do it now before you or someone else stops you. You need to stop the pain. The pain ripping through your whole body, the one bothering you for such a long time now, the one you can’t stand anymore. The pain of yourself. You’re too fucked up. Sorry, this program has become too corrupted and must be terminated.

Despite your severe peanut allergy, you know your dad keeps a reserve amount of peanut butter for his own consumption in his room. You figure it’s the best way. From prior experience, you know you don’t stay conscious very long. You locate the jar and take it to your room.

In the process of retrieving it, you’re reminded of your dad. You can’t believe you almost forgot to say anything to him. You can’t bear to call him, so you write a note instead. That’s what they always do anyways, right?

_Dear dad,_

_I’m sorry. You were a great father. It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done. You deserved a better son than me. Maybe once I’m gone, I can say this to mom, too. I love you, dad._

_To everyone who might read this, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble. You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I never wanted you to. But I can’t keep going like this. It’s better this way._

You think for a second and decide to add one more line, without addressing anyone. Maybe he’ll pick up on it. You kind of hope he doesn’t. You just need to get it out there, somehow.

_I love you._

With that, you pick a glob of peanut butter and put it in your mouth. It’s such a nice taste, and you lament never having been able to enjoy it. You lay on your bed and wait. Karkat’s message replays in your mind. You figure he’ll just be another person you’ve disappointed.

It doesn’t take long for the effects of anaphylaxis to set in. You feel the itching in your mouth and all over your body. It becomes harder to breathe, and you black out soon enough.

 

 

**Dave: Be a hero**

You feel your blood run cold as the line with John cuts out. You try to call him again, but he doesn’t answer. Fuck. You have a feeling that your suspicions are correct. You need to do something right now, but you’re filled with fear. Then you think about John. How much you love him. How great a friend he’s been and how he deserves to be as happy as he makes other people. This is enough to motivate you into an adrenaline rush, which is something you desparately something you need. You quickly send Rose a message before sprinting to your car.

TG: think john may be killing himself cant think straight going to his house right now

 

You don’t pay attention to any responses she might send you; you don’t have time. You think you might have gone 40 above the limit on parts of your way over, but you don’t care. You need to get there as soon as possible. If it’s a false alarm, so be it. He needs you right now anyways.

You burst into his house and call out his name. No response. Fuckfuckfuck. You go up the stairs three at a time and nearly knock down his door trying to enter his room. The image before you sends chills down your spine. John is lying unconscious on his bed. Every part of his body that you can see has hives, and his face is swollen to the point where you can barely recognize him. It’s easy to deduce what he did when you see the jar of peanut butter on his desk. Where did he even get peanut butter? There wouldn’t be any in his house, would there?

You don’t have time to think about that, though. You can’t even cry right now. Another rush of adrenaline surges through you and all you can think about is saving him. You think back to when he told you about his EpiPen. You remember he keeps it in his backpack. You don’t see it in his room, though. You rush back down the stairs and find it sitting near the door. You don’t remember what compartment it’s in, so you just unzip everything and shake its entire contents onto the floor. The EpiPen is easily recognizable with in its bright orange. You grab it and dash back to John’s room.

Now you need to remember how to use the damn thing. The last time he taught you was in freshman year. You think back as best you can.

_First, pull off the cap._

You basically rip the blue cap off the top.

_Then, hold against the thigh for ten seconds._

You jam it against his thigh as hard as you can. You end up waiting fifteen seconds, just to make absolutely sure he gets all of it. Then you finally breathe. You have a little more time to think now, but you’re still in a state of shock.

_After that, call 911!_

That part was pretty obvious. You dial 9-1-1 on your phone and wait impatiently for an answer. Soon enough, an operator answers.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“Please help my best friend tried to kill himself hes having an allergic reaction he’s unconscious oh my god.” You’re hysterical, and now that you’re finally talking about it, you’ve started sobbing.

“Sir, please remain calm. What is the address?” How can she ask you to calm down? You give her the address, and end up having to repeat it because you say it so fast.

“And how old is your friend?”

“He’s sixteen. He’s too young for this. He doesn’t deserve this!”

“It’s going to be okay, sir.” She doesn’t know that. “Do you know what caused the reaction?”

“Peanut butter, he’s allergic to peanuts, he took it himself to commit suicide, there’s even a note here.” You’re still sobbing but you manage to hold it out long enough to say all of that.

“Okay sir, an ambulance is already on the way. Have you administered anything to your friend since you found him?”

“He has an EpiPen so I gave it to him. I can hear him breathe a bit now.” You realize that fact as you say it, and it gives you a surge of hope.

“That’s good, sir. Paramedics should arrive shortly. Is there any other information you can give us?”

“Uh, I can’t–I can’t think of anything,”

“Alright, then. You can hang up now. If anything changes or you need anything else, call us back immediately.”

“OK, th–thanks,” you sob out and hang up the phone. All you can do now is wait. It’s killing you. Now that you have time, the situation hits you even harder.

“Oh my god, John,” you give him an awkward hug from your standing position. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let this happen. I should have done more. I’m so so so sorry. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to be in so much pain. You deserve all the happiness in the world. God, I wish you never had to feel what you felt. Fuck, I was never brave enough to tell you I love you. Like, I want to make out with you and go on stupid dates and all that cheesy shit couples do. If you make it out of this alive I’m not gonna hide it for one more second. Even if you don’t feel the same way, you need to know. I need you to know.” You give him a kiss on the forehead before finally letting go of him. You can hear the sirens now. You wish they would move faster. You wish this were as important to them as it is to you.

You mentioned the note before, but you realize you never actually read it, so you take the time to read it now. Fuck, you think about his dad. How devastated he would be if he lost his only son. He’s already lost his wave. Shit damn fuck. You need to tell him now. You need to tell Rose and Jade too.

The ambulance finally arrives after what feels like an eternity. You direct the paramedics to John and they start doing all kinds of medical shit on him. You give them details when they ask for it. They put a whole bunch of needles in him and give him a mask. It still feels surreal to you, like you’re still hoping you’ll wake up from a bad dream.

You know it’s not though, so you know you need to call his dad. You don’t have his number though. You need John’s phone. You don’t see it anywhere, and it wasn’t in his backpack, so you figure it’s on his person. You ask the paramedics to check. They his the phone and give it to you, as well as his wallet.

You know the password to his phone, of course, and open his contacts. There he is, listed as “Dad”. You call the number, dreading the conversation you’re about to have.”

“Hello, John,” he answers in a perfectly cheerful voice. He doesn’t know about anything yet. You’re going to have to break that cheer.

“Mr. Egbert...” you try not to sound distressed, although you mostly fail.

“Dave? What’s wrong? Why do you have John’s phone? Did something happen?”

“John, he... he’s having an allergic reaction.”

“Oh my god.” You can hear the worry in his voice now. “Did you give him his EpiPen? Have you called an ambulance? Is he being treated?”

“Yeah, I gave it to him; the paramedics are here.”

“How did this happen?”

Oh boy, here’s the part you really don’t want to tell him. But you have to.

“Mr. E, he... he tried to kill himself.” Just saying that out loud feels like another punch to the gut. “Found peanut butter. I don’t know where he got it from.”

He’s silent for a long time. By now, the paramedics have brought up a stretcher to take John to the ambulance. You ask if you can ride with them, and they let you. You take the note with you. You can hardly bear to look at John, so you avert your eyes as much as possible.

“It was in my room,” his dad finally responds. You can hear him sniffling. It breaks your heart. He’s been more of a father to you than Bro ever has.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. He just... he was hurting,” you admit. “He was hurting and I tried to help him but it wasn’t enough and now...” you blubber. You really can’t find it in you to keep it together right now.

“I’m going to the hospital now,” is all he says.

“Okay, we’re already on our way. I’ll see you there.” He doesn’t respond, so you hang up the phone. You still have some calls to make, though.

You still have to call Rose and Jade. You decide to call Rose first, because you feel like her reaction will be less heartbreaking. Switching back to your own phone, you bring up her contact info and call her.

“Dave? Have you talked to John? He called me earlier and he was really worrying–”

“Yeah. I’m with him now.”

“Oh, good.”

“We’re in an ambulance, and he’s unconscious.” No matter how many times you’ve had to say it, you never get used to it.

Like Mr. Egbert, she’s silent for a long moment after that.

“Fuck.” You can hear how upset she is through the phone. You almost never see Rose lose her composition. You can empathize, though.

“Rose, I know you’re gonna blame yourself, so please don’t. We’re on our way to St. Prospit’s Hospital. You can meet us there if you want.”

“How did he do it?” She sounds reserved again. She really does have a skill.

“He ate peanut butter.”

“Creative. We’re actually he did that, because anaphylaxis is very treatable. If he’s helped soon enough, it can be completely reversed in hours with no lasting effects.”

“Wow, and here I was expecting Jade to be the one who tries to be optimistic.”

“Optimism doesn’t really help, though. Dave, for him to attempt suicide, he must have been in so much pain... I knew about this. I should have pushed harder to get him help. I should have been checking up on him because I knew he wouldn’t come to us. I knew all of this, but I didn’t do it, and now–”

“Rose. Stop. Please. You said he’s probably going to live. So all we need to focus on is being there for him now. He kept everything to himself; it wasn’t any of our faults.”

“I know, Dave, but I can’t help but think...”

“I know. It’s been the same for me. Believe me.”

“Speaking of Jade, does she know?”

“No, I was going to tell her after you. I’ve already told his dad.”

“This must be especially awful for you, given the circumstances. Especially since you had to tell his father. I can tell Jade for you, if you want. She’s going to be hysterical.”

“That would be great, actually. I don’t understand how you can be so calm right now.”

“Believe me, I’m not. I’m just good at controlling my façade. I’ll see you at the hospital, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks Rose. See you.” You hang up.

Now that Rose is telling Jade, you’re left to your own devices. You’re arriving at the hospital. You follow the paramedics as they take him to the ER. A nurse offers you a place to sit, but you can’t sit right now. You’re too restless.

John’s dad arrives soon after. He looks like a mess. You greet him with a silent hug, which he firmly reciprocates. Both of you are in tears. You remain like that for several moments before finally separating.

“How is he?” he asks one of the nurses, panicked.

“He’s responding well to the treatment, and most of the swelling has gone down. He should be back to normal and awake soon.”

Both of you simultaneously let out a sigh of relief. Those are the first soothing words you’ve heard since this started.

“He’s lucky to have recovered from such an extreme reaction. The early dose of epinephrine probably saved his life.”

This nurse sure knows how to make you feel good. That’s certainly a topic for future conversations. Maybe “Hey, I saved your life. Will you go out with me?”

You can’t even believe you’re thinking of this right now.

“That’s great to hear, thank you,” Mr. Egbert tells the nurse. He looks loads better, although not without distress.

“You’re welcome,” he responds with a smile before walking away to tend to another patient.

 

 

**John: Revive**

You wake up feeling nauseated. You can’t really see much since you don’t have your glasses on, so you reach over to where they usually are, but they’re not there. It’s then that you realize you’re not in your room. There’s a whole lot of white. Suddenly, you feel someone throw themself on top of you and start hugging you. You can hear them crying.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” You recognize that voice.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, it’s me, John.”

“Where are my glasses?”

He doesn’t answer, but somebody else comes up to you and puts out their arm. You blindly grab their hand and feel your glasses. You put them on so you can finally see properly. The first thing you see, apart from your dad’s body in your peripheral vision, is Dave. He’s not wearing his shades, so you can see right into his intense red eyes. They’re giving you a look of harsh anguish. They remind you of what happened.

You’re still alive. It didn’t work. You’re not sure how to feel about that. It should be good, right? But if you think it’s good, why would you have done it in the first place? Nothing’s better, and in fact, right now, it’s worse.

But look at Dave and your dad, who finally got off of you, you can see all the pain and worry it caused. You can see the relief, too. You can’t imagine the pain they would have felt if you had succeeded, so you decide that it’s a good thing you lived after all. You’re not very energized by that thought, though.

“It’s good to see you, bro,” Dave says softly, his voice watery with heartache.

“John!” a high-pitched voice yells out. Before you can process it, you have Jade hugging you, just like your father was moments ago.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me.” There are hiccups in the middle of her sentence, due to how hard she was sobbing. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “I thought I might never see you again... fuck.” She gets off of you so she can wipe the tears off her face. You’ve never seen Jade look this messed up. She’s always been the most cheerful girl you know.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize to her timidly, avoiding direct eye contact. You decide to focus on her mouth instead.

“John, please don’t apologize.” It’s not Jade talking, though. Rose appears from behind the curtain. You can tell she did her best to conceal her distress, but her face is not without emotion.

“If anyone should be sorry, it’s us. You needed us and we neglected you. I knew you weren’t well but I didn’t try as hard as I should have...” She’s choking up. This scene is just making you feel worse and worse. You kind of want everyone to go away, but you definitely want them to stay. Solitude is what brought you here in the first place.

Your dad speaks up. “Please, everyone. I know it’s hard not to feel at fault here for everyone. Even I have those thoughts. But it doesn’t help us to blame ourselves. It’s not anyone’s fault. No one’s. Alright?” Everyone else collectively nods. You just sit there, looking down at the sheets. With all these people around you, you’re starting to feel like an exhibit.

“Can I speak to him alone, please?” he asks. The rest agree and distance themselves from your bed. Your dad pulls up a chair and sits close to you.

“Son, I...” he sighs. “I love you.”

“I love you too, dad,” you respond softly. You’re plagued by a feeling of shame. It makes it harder to say that than it should be, but you push through, because it’s true and he needs to hear it. You kind of needed it, too.

“I read your letter, and you’re wrong.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t deserve a better son. It’s not possible to have a better son than you.” His voice is quavering with emotion, and it’s spreading to you as well.

You look back down at your sheets. “Thanks, dad. You’ve always been so good to me. I don’t know if I even deserve a father as caring as you.” Your dad leans in for another hug, and this time, you reciprocate.

“Everyone deserves a good father. You’ve always been my pride and joy, and I’m sure your mother would feel the same way. I love you so, so much. Things are going to get better, okay?”

“Okay,” is all you respond with. You’re not sure how much you believe that, but it’s not important right now.

He pulls out of the hug. “I’m going to let your friends talk with you for a little bit, okay?” He still looks distraught, but better than before.

“Alright.” Your dad stands up and walks away, presumably to get your friends. Soon enough, Dave comes back. He still looks like a mess.

“Where’s Rose and Jade?” you ask.

“I told them I wanted to talk to you alone first. They understood.”

“Oh,” you acknowledge. “Okay. Shoot.”

“Egbert, I... I don’t even know where to begin. I’m so glad you called me, because that’s the only reason I got to you so quickly. If I didn’t feel the need to check up on you...” he looks at the floor. You understand without him saying the rest.

“God, the thought of losing you... that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever felt. There’s nothing quite like having to save your best friend’s life.” He lets out a nervous chuckle.

“I’m so sorry, Dave. You shouldn’t have had to see me like that, and I–”

“John, how many times do we gotta tell you not to blame yourself?” he playfully scolds you.

“Heh. Sorry,” you nervously reply.

“But anyways... thinking I might never get to talk to you again was a real wake up call for me. Because, uh, I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a long time. And I almost missed my chance forever.”

“What is it?”

“John, I, uh, I...” he’s looking at the ground again. There’s actually a bit of a blush on his face. His hesitation is making you anxious.

“Dave, please, tell me,” you beg.

“I love you,” he blurts. Suddenly, there’s complete silence between you too. At first, the phrase stuns you. Then you finally start to process it. Fuck. He actually felt the same way the whole time? And you almost killed yourself and missed it. You resist the urge to slap yourself across the face. Then, you realize Dave is waiting for a reaction, so now’s not the best time for your inner turmoil. You hope your expression hasn’t made him think you don’t feel the same way. Now you just need to say it.

“Dave, I... It was so hard, having these thoughts, knowing I couldn’t...”

“Wait, you knew?”

You look him in the eyes. “No. I didn’t know. That was the painful part. On top of everything else, those feelings hurt so much; I couldn’t stand having to deal with it all; I, I couldn’t,” you blabber. You find it hard to get to the point.

“John, what are you talking about?” He’s almost pleading now. You’re stressing him out. It needs to stop.

“Did you read the note?” you ask him gently.

“Yeah. But I don’t get what that has to do with this.”

“I could never truly admit it, even when I thought I was going to die. Those last words were for you, Dave.”

His eyes widen. He looks too stunned to say anything.

“I love you, too.”

Suddenly, there’s a Dave wrapped around you, hugging you tighter than you’ve ever been hugged before.

“God, this is so stupid,” he exclaims into your neck.

“I know. We were both too chickenshit to admit it,” you can’t help but giggle. The fact that Dave loves you back is finally really starting to hit you. It’s the first feeling of genuine happiness you’ve felt in a long time. It’s refreshing.

Dave pulls his head back and rests his forehead against yours. “Well, now we don’t have to worry about that ever again,” he laughs. You can feel his breath against your own. You kind of want it to stay there forever.

He does you one better, though. He tilts his head and leans in, finally doing what you’ve both wanted to do for way too long.

 

 

**Dave: Kiss the boy**

It would feel like a dream, if you weren’t in a hospital due to your best friend’s attempted suicide. But it still feels pretty damn wonderful. He’s alive, he’s here, and he likes you back. Even this morning, you could have never predicted this. Months of stress and anxiety are lifted from your shoulders in an instant when your lips make contact with his. The kiss is light and chaste, but lingering. You don’t really ever want it to end.

Unfortunately, it does when you hear a voice behind you. “Congratulations.” You pull away in panic and twist around to see a smug Rose standing behind you.

“Damn it, I told you I wanted to talk to him alone!” you spurt, still feeling a bit embarrassed.

“You were taking too long. Who knows how long you would have monopolized John’s time.”

You look back at John, who hasn’t said anything. He has his face in his hands, looking clearly embarrassed.

“Well, what did you want to say that you clearly couldn’t wait for?” you demand.

“Oh, nothing in particular. I just wanted to check how things were going. Clearly they’re going better than even I expected.”

You sigh. “Fine. Where’s Jade?”

Rose turns her head around without responding, and beckons someone over. Soon, Jade is at her side.

“What’d I miss?” she innocently asks. Rose leans into her and whispers into her ear, as if the rest of you don’t know.

“Ohmygod! Congratulations Dave! And John!” she squeals. She actually jumps up and down with excitement, and it’s kind of endearing.

“Thanks,” a muffled John finally speaks. He removes his face from his hands and looks up. “Thanks for being here, all of you.” He still seems kind of reserved, but he’s loosened up more since he woke up. You can actually see a small smile on his face, and it gives you butterflies.

“I missed that smile,” you say to him. It’s sappy as fuck, but whatever, you’re still on a high right now.

He responds with a small chuckle. “I love all of you so much.”

“I love you too, John,” Rose responds with a soft, genuine smile on her face. Jade follows with a “me too,” looking like she’s about to cry again. Jade’s the one you can always count on to fully express her feelings. You could learn something from her.

“Wow, and I thought I was special.” You give him an exaggerated pout. He gently shoves your shoulder.

“Dave, I love you more. Is that better?”

“Perfect.” Even with the light tone, hearing that still gives you an amazing feeling. Like you’re reminded that you didn’t imagine it. He really loves you.

“Good. Now, how long until I can get out of here?” he asks.

“Uh, I’m not sure,” Rose answers. “Your dad might know. I’ll go ask him.” She walks out of your field of vision. Jade walks closer to you two, standing behind your seat.

“I’m so happy for the both of you,” she says. She ruffles your hair, to which you turn around to give her an annoyed look. She just grins harder in response.

“You two have always been so good for each other. It was so obvious how happy you made each other. Honestly, it was kind of exhausting waiting for both of you to explore those feelings. Guys always have this annoying tendency to try and be straight when they’re clearly not, and frankly it’s exhausting. I’m talking to you, John.”

John gives a nervous chuckle. “Yeah. I guess that did kind of screw things up.” He looks down at his hands sitting in his lap.

“But it’s okay, because everybody needs their own time to discover themselves. You understand now, and that’s all that really matters,” Jade continues with optimism. John looks back up at her. “And now you have something positive to help the pain. And you have all of us, too. You’re going to be fine, John, I know it. We’re going to help you all the way, whatever it takes. You’re so important to the world, and if we had lost you... if we had lost you, the world would have lost so much.” You can hear her getting emotional now, for obvious reasons. John is on the verge of tears.

“Who knew you were so good with speeches, Harley?” you joke. She shoves the back of your head. “Don’t spoil the moment, you fuck.” John lets out a burst of laughter at that, and it quickly spreads to you and Jade. Rose then finally decides to return, accompanied by Mr. Egbert.

“Well, due to the nature of the, uhm, incident,” Mr. E announces, “the doctors want to keep John here for a while. The rest of you should probably go home. They need to do some of their own talking with him.”

You don’t want to leave John yet, but you don’t really have much choice. You almost give him a kiss goodbye, but his dad is here and you don’t want to out him without his permission. So you give him a hug instead, as do Rose and Jade. You all bid your farewells, taking off in your separate rides.

 

It still doesn’t feel entirely real to you. All those romantic feelings you’ve suffered through these past few months are actually reciprocated. Holy shit. You feel like the fucking luckiest man alive right now. You end up expressing your elation by screaming into your pillow, followed by looking at pictures of John you’ve taken over the years. You hope that’s not creepy. But you can’t really find it in yourself to care, because the person in those pictures makes you feel happier than you have in a long time.

 

**John: Be discharged**

Unfortunately, you can’t be discharged yet, due to the fact that you tried to kill yourself. Your body has already recovered perfectly fine. Your dad waits with you for a while. There’s some idle chatter, but you’re mostly silent. Eventually, a doctor comes in to have a talk with you and your father.

He explains that patients who have attempted suicide are required to stay hospitalized for at least a few days and must be under constant monitoring. You’re going to have to talk to a psychologist every day until they think you’re stable enough to be released. You’re not thrilled. Eventually, he leaves you alone. Visiting hours are almost over, so your dad says goodbye to you. It kind of scares you to be on your own. You don’t tell him that, though.

**== >**

The next week sucks, apart from the daily visits with your dad and friends. Having to talk to the psychologist makes you as anxious as ever, especially since you have to talk about your feelings. You really hate talking about yourself, but you need to convince her that you’re okay. That ends up happening the same day school gets our for Christmas break. At least there’s that. You get time to relax, and maybe people will forget about your accident. The last thing you want is for everyone to know what happened. For better or worse, they wouldn’t treat you the same. And you hate that. You just want to be treated normally.

Your dad drives you home when you’re finally discharged. He hugs you when you finally walk out of the hospital. The car ride is unusually silent; you expected your dad to have a lot to say. When you arrive home, you realize he was saving the talking until now, as he pats the seat next to him on the couch. You sit, unsure of how to feel.

“Unfortunately, with Christmas around the corner, and limited availability, I couldn’t schedule a therapy appointment until mid-January,” he tells you.

“Do I have to?” you gripe. “It was bad enough at the hospital.”

“John, I’m going to help you as much as I can, and I’m sure your friends will too. But we’re not trained on this kind of thing. A professional therapist will really help, I promise. Even if it doesn’t feel like it at first.”

You don’t really have an argument against that. You already know that you need therapy, but thinking about it fills you with dread. It’s hard to come back from wanting to die when shit still sucks afterwards. But you figure it’s better than death. Your dad’s right; you don’t know how long you could continue to last on your own.

“Yeah. I know,” you finally reply. “But how am I supposed to tell a stranger about my feelings if I couldn’t even tell my friends? If I couldn’t even tell my own dad?”

“I think they understand that. Trust me, it’s going to go a lot better than you think. And they won’t force you to say anything you want to. It’s ultimately your choice. But try to do what’s best for you, even if it’s unpleasant. Promise me?”

“I promise.” You turn to look him in the eyes before saying this. You can’t let yourself break this promise.

“I love you. I’m so proud of you, son.” He gives you yet another hug. You don’t mind, though. It’s reassuring to know he really does care about you. Sometimes it’s hard to believe anyone does.

“Thanks, dad.”

“Oh, we need to go fill the prescription the hospital gave you.” He gets up to go back to the car.

“Do I need to come with you?”

He gives you a nervous look. “I’m not really comfortable leaving you alone yet.”

“Dad...”

“Son, I trust you. I just need to know that if you start slipping, you’ll have someone to catch you. Okay?”

“Yeah.” You can sympathize with him, but the lack of solitude is going to be exhausting.

You drive to the pharmacy to pick up your prescription. On the way back, you dad tells you that he’ll be giving the meds to you, rather than you doing it yourself. It’s more reliable that way, and he doesn’t want to leave you with access to drugs. You wonder about all the other stuff in your medicine cabinet, and your dad explains that he hid most of it for a while. Fair enough. You wouldn’t really trust yourself with access to drugs, either.

“The hospital referred me to a psychiatrist,” he says as you both walk back into the house. “I’m going to set up an appointment with them so that your medicine can be adjusted and refilled. But for now, I have some work I need to do in the study. Please don’t be afraid to talk if you ever need anything, okay?”

“I got you.” He gives you a smile of pride and pats your shoulder before entering the study. You’re not really sure what to do now. Then you remember Dave. Due to schoolwork, and Bro still hounding him about it, he wasn’t able to visit you much. You messaged him sometimes, but the service in the hospital was bad and didn’t work much of the time. But now, you’re finally free to see him. You rush to your computer, impatiently waiting for it to turn on. You open pesterchum and start typing excitedly.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 19:51 --

 

EB: hey guess where i am.  
TG: earth  
EB: you asshole.  
EB: i’m home!  
TG: oh shit really  
EB: yeah. you should come over.  
EB: i’ve missed you.  
TG: shit ive been missing the fuck out of you  
TG: like rose after she hogged up the board and let jack die of hypothermia  
EB: that was a very confusing sentence at first.  
TG: yeah haha not our rose  
TG: though i can see her doing that  
EB: ok normally i enjoy your rambling bullshit but you need to get your cute butt over here pronto.  
TG: i do have a cute butt dont i  
EB: omg  
TG: yeah yeah im leaving right now  
TG: see you soon  
TG: <3  
EB: <3

 

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 19:55 --

 

Soon enough, Dave is knocking at your door. As soon as you open it, you get the most intense, bone-crushing hug of your live. He actually lifts you off the fucking ground holy shit how is he this strong.

“Yeah, love you do. Can you put me down?” you request. He does so.

“God I just... it’s so good to see you without all the depressing medical shit around.” He’s completely smiling, pokerface abandoned. He’s still wearing his shades, though. Somehow it makes him look even cuter like that.

“It’s nice not having all the depressing medical shit around,” you retort. He giggles, and you both go up to the privacy of your room. As soon as the door shuts, he pulls you in for a prolonged peck on the lips. It stuns you for a second, and you can feel yourself blushing like a motherfucker.

“Sorry. Was that too forward?” he asks, looking bashful. Jesus Christ you wish he would show his emotions all the time, because he’s so cute when he does. You both take a seat on your bed.

“No, it was perfect. I just still can’t believe that this is real,” you admit.

“That makes two, bro.”

“Oh, yeah, uh, that reminds me... are we, um,” you start to ask but drop off nervously.

“Dating?” he finishes for you.

“Yeah. I guess.” You were gonna say boyfriends, but you figure there’s not really much of a difference.

“Well, we haven’t gone on any dates yet, so I guess not, technically.”

“We need to fix that, then,” you grin.

“We can fix that right now, actually.” He gives you a mischievous look. “John Egbert, will you go on a date with me? Right now?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Yes, I’d love that. Where is this date happening?” you giggle.

“How does the arcade sound?” You weren’t expecting him to actually pick a location, but he just did, and it actually sounds awesome.

“Hell yes. Let’s go,” you eagerly say.

He grabs your arm and pulls you back down on the bed next to him. “Well, we don’t have to leave _now_...”

“What else would we... oh!” You like the idea of where this is going, but it also makes you nervous. You’ve never made out with anyone before. Hell, before that day at the hospital, you’d never kissed anyone! What a first kiss.

Dave turns to look at you, and you reciprocate. Slowly, like the awkward teenagers you are, you lean into each other. Before your lips meet, though, your glasses do. You both react with a giggle and remove your respective eyewear.

“Your eyes are fucking beautiful. I wish you wouldn’t hide them all the time,” you remark.

Dave bashfully bows his head. “It’s all part of the image, bro.”

“What image? The total dork who pretends to be cool?” you chuckle. He gives you a playful shove.

“Whatever, just fucking kiss me already.” And then he pulls you in and then you do.

You may have kissed at the hospital, but this feels like the first time you’re really kissing. And it feels amazing. Less from the actual lip touching, although that part is still nice, but more so from the person you’re doing it with. Dave, your best fucking friend. And he still is, but now he’s more, too. Now that you’ve gotten accustomed to the idea, you can’t imagine finding anyone you get along better with than Dave. Honestly, you’ve alrerady been so close that it probably won’t be very different from how it has been. Except now you get to kiss, and maybe a couple other things as well. You delay that train of thought for now.

The position you two are in, sitting on the edge of your bed and turning your heads, is starting to get a bit uncomfortable. Obviously, Dave feels the same way, because he suddenly breaks the kiss and pushes you so that you’re lying on your bed. Getting the message, you pick up your legs so that you’re completely lying down. Dave crawls above you and lowers his head for another kiss.

“How do you manage to be so fucking beautiful?” he ponders, looking down at you with a dopey smile.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” you say back to him, flustered. He leans in close to your ear.

“I have another idea,” he murmurs as he slips his hands under your shirt. This alarms you a bit. You don’t really think you feel comfortable going past making out yet. You start to voice your concern when Dave suddenly digs his fingers into your sides and starts tickling you something fierce.

“HAHAHAHA DAVE! I HAHAHA CAN’T BREATHE HAHAHA!” you attempt you communicate through your uncontrollable laughter, as you try to writhe out of his grip. He leans down until he’s essentially on top of you before relaxing his attack. He starts giving you gentle kisses on your neck, and slowly makes his way up past your cheek until he reaches your lips. You both quickly get lost in the ensuing kiss.

Dave slides his tongue across your lower lip. You return the favor, and it doesn’t take long for the kiss to evolve into full on French kissing. It feels kind of weird, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now. You tire of it soon enough, and also of having Dave’s weight on top of you. You break the kiss and slowly nudge him off so he rolls over onto his side. You turn to face him.

“So, uhh, about the arcade...” you remind him.

“Can we rain check that to tomorrow? I just wanna spend some time alone with me favorite person. Plus it’s cold as balls right now.”

“It’s not really going to be better tomorrow.”

“The sun is our best friend in these trying times.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say, Mr. Texas.”

“Hey, don’t diss,” he chastises you while simultaneously pulling you in to give you a noogie.

“Yeah, you are definitely 100% dork,” you comment.

He gives you a peck on the lips in reply. “Yeah, and you love that dork,” he smiles.

“Can’t deny that,” you smile back.

Both of you lay like that for a bit, snuggled up and exchanging lazy kisses. It’s the most comfortable you’ve felt in a long time. If you could keep this moment going forever, you would. Unfortunately, you can’t, and eventually Dave lifts his head to rest it in his hand.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” he asks.

“Is that a real question?”

“Okay. You can pick.”

“What an honor. Let’s watch _Failure to Launch_.”

“What a surprising choice. You’d better not start lusting after McConaughfuck over me,” he teases.

“You ass,” you giggle. “I promise I won’t. You’re the only one for me, Dave Strider.”

“I’m swooning. Catch me, John Egbert.” He flops back on top of you.

“Get your fat butt off me so I can actually set up the movie.” You shove him off.

“Now my butt is cute _and_ fat? Wow, that sounds like some choice ass. You lucked out,” Dave calls out as you get up and start to leave the room.

You shush him. “I still need to tell my dad.”

“Dude, he’s probably already been waiting for this to happen. But okay, I’ll let you get to that on your own time.”

His comment about your dad makes you slightly anxious, but you push the thought out of your mind. Soon enough the movie is starting and you’re both snuggled up on the couch. You made a point to be the one on top this time. Dave pretended to make a big deal out of it, but you know he wasn’t being serious.

**== >**

It’s about halfway through the movie now, and boy do you feel tired. You find yourself dozing off a few times, but you’re determined to make it through the whole movie. McConaughey is just too good to miss. Suddenly, your dad comes out his study. He stops to look at you and Dave for a second and smiles. You’re suddenly aware of how compromising your current position is, with your face essentially nuzzled into Dave’s neck. You want to move yourself, but Dave’s arms are wrapped around you and kind of holding you there. Even worse.

“Good night, boys,” he says with a smile on his face.

“Good night, dad,” you mumble. “Night Mr. E.” He continues going to his bedroom.

“Yeah, he definitely knows,” Dave says as soon as your dad is out of hearing range.

“Shut up, I don’t wanna think about it right now,” you grumble. Dave just sighs. “Sorry. I’ll talk to him tomorrow, okay?”

“I don’t want to rush you, babe. Take as long as you need.”

“Babe?” you giggle.

“I’m trying it out.” He cranes his neck so he can give you a kiss on the cheek. You can feel them run hot. Good thing it’s dark in here.

“But really, I will,” you insist.

“Whatever you say.”

You end up being awoken to the credits of the movie, your quest to stay awake evidently failed.

“Wanna go to bed?” Dave asks you.

“Mmm... yeah,” you murmur. Wow, being this comfortable has really made you sleepy. “You’re a good bed.”

“Thanks, but I’d like to sleep in a bed, too,” he comments.

“Ugh, fine.” You stand up and stretch for a few seconds. Dave follows, and you both head back to your room. You quickly change into pajamas and climb into bed. You don’t even have the energy to brush your teeth. Dave takes a bit longer, but eventually he joins you. You waste no time cuddling up to him. He’s always warm; you have no idea how he does it.

“It’s funny, this part isn’t even different,” Dave remarks.

“Well, it is a little different.”

“How so?”

You lean back and give him a small kiss. “I can do that,” you grin.

“True. So it did get a little better.” You feel him give you a kiss on the top of your head. Your sleepiness quickly consumes you, and you don’t remember anything after that.

 

 

**Dave: Take that boy on a real date**

You wake up on your back with a heavy weight on your chest. As you gain your senses, you realize that John somehow managed to roll on top of you. His upper half, at least. You’re not even sure how he can sleep like that. Not worried about waking him up, you casually shove him off of you. He rolls onto his back and shows no sign of disturbance. That boy could sleep through a hurricane.

You recall the events of yesterday. This is the first time John is waking up in his own bed in a week. It should be special for him. What could be more ironic than breakfast in bed? It’s the cliché that makes it ironic. You head downstairs to the kitchen to start working on your plan. Hopefully he won’t wake up too soon. It’s pretty early, so you’re not too worried.

You are worried, however, about your cooking skills, as your attempt to make pancakes almost sets off the smoke alarm. Despite the cold, you open a window because Christ that smells bad. It apparently smells bad enough to wake up John’s dad, because soon afterwards he’s coming down the stairs with a concerned expression on his face.

“Morning, Mr. E,” you try to act casual.

“Dave, I am correct in assuming you’re not trying to commit arson, yes?” he questions you.

“Uh, no, sir.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Well, uh, I wanted to surprise John for his, uh, his first morning at home...” your voice falls off as you try to explain. You feel strangely indimiated.

Mr. Egbert gives you a smile. “Well, that certainly is nice of you, Dave. Perhaps it’s, um, best to stick to your own skill set, though. Hehe.”

“Yeah, uh, probably.”

“I’ll be happy to cook those, er, those are pancakes, right?”

You roll your eyes behind your shades. “Yeah. And you don’t have to do that. No taking the credit from me,” you tease.

He chuckles. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“Well, if you insist... I still get to help you, though.”

“You can be my nurse. Hand me equipment when I ask for it.”

“What an honor,” you reply sarcastically.

**== >**

After real, edible pancakes are successfully made, with maple syrup and whipped cream on top because John loves that shit, you chill while Mr. E cleans up dishes. Suddenly he turns his head to look at you.

“Dave, would you take a look at this?” he asks you, pointing into the sink.

You’re not sure what he could possibly want you to see in the sink, but comply. The water’s still running.

“I don’t see anything.”

“No, look real close.” You bend over into the sink, trying to find whatever the hell John’s dad is on about.

“I still don’t–” Suddenly, you find yourself being sprayed on the side of your face with a burst of lukewarm water. You immediately jerk your head backwards, and Mr. Egbert roars out laughing. He’s holding the nozzle to the sink.

“That’s hilarious,” you deadpan. It takes him a solid minute for him to stop laughing, you swear. You dry your face and shades in the meantime, and then take the tray with the plate of pancakes and some silverwear upstairs. He’s still laughing when you close John’s door behind you. You set the tray on his desk. He’s still asleep. Time to wake up this lump.

You decide the best course of action is to tackle him. You’re not sure if anything less would be effective. This method is, though, and you have no regrets. John wakes with a startle and sits up in a daze. It takes him about ten seconds to process his surroundings.

“Morning, Dave,” he says, still groggy. “Why are you on top of me like that? And why is your hair wet?”

“Cause I’ve got a surprise for you, and your dad’s a little shit,” you tease.

He perks up. “What kind of surprise?”

You give him a quick peck on that grin he’s wearing. He becomes flustered, with an obvious blush on his face.

“That wasn’t the surprise,” you reassure him. You then stand up and walk over to the desk. You pick up the tray and bring it over to John. He’s still not wearing his glasses, so he can’t actually see what it is until you set it in his lap.

“Dave! You made pancakes!”

“Hehe, yeah.” It’s not a total lie. “This is your first morning home and I wanted you to enjoy it.”

“Gosh, you’re too much, Dave,” he says bashfully. He looks down at the food and gently murmurs a “Thanks.”

“Ain’t no thang, babe,” you exaggerate your Texan accent, taking a seat on the bed next to John. That ears you a chuckle out of him and he begins to eat the pancakes.

“These are really good. Are you sure you made these?” he asks, skeptical.

“Wow, I am offended, John Egbert,” you feign an upset tone. He gives you a look. “Well, I may have had some help,” you admit.

“Figures,” he giggles. “Still, thank you, though. Really.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You gently play with his hair. “We’ve still got that date, remember?”

“Oh shift,” he says with a mouthful of food.

After he finishes eating, he finally gets out of bed. You both go downstairs and decide to play video games for a while. Somehow, your relationship(?) actually makes you two even more competitive. At least, you spend more time sabotaging each other. It’s still fun, though, and neither of you really mind. Anything could be fun, as long as you had John Egbert there with you.

Eventually, you both tire out. “Well, now that we’ve exhausted our modern video game supply, how about some retro ones?” you suggest.

“As–as a date?” he stammers.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Uh. Yeah, actually. That sounds nice.” He gets a gentle smile on his face and it makes him look so cute.

“Well then, let’s go!”

“Wait! I’m not in proper date attire!”

“What the hell is proper date attire?” you question.

“I’ll be right back.” He goes up to his room. You wait for him by the door. When he comes back down, you can’t believe what you see.

“Are you wearing a motherfucking suit, Egbert?” you gape. It’s a dark navy blue, with a lighter blue tie accompanying it. Jesus Christ.

“Nothing but the finest apparel for a day out with my gentleman,” he jokes with a faux fancy accent.

“Well, now I look underdressed, damn it. We’re gonna have to stop by my apartment so I can change.”

“That would be just delightful,” he continues his impression.

“You’re fucking ridiculous, Egbert,” you tell him as you walk out the door.

**== >**

After you’ve stopped by your own apartment to change into your own suit, which is black with a red tie, you drive into the city to go to the arcade.

“We’re gonna look fucking ridiculous, I’m telling you,” you comment as you approach the venue.

“What are best friends for?” he simply replies. Can’t argue with that logic.

John quickly gets engrossed in Galaga. Figures, the nerd. You two get a few strange looks, but nobody asks about your outfits, thank god. You don’t really want to have to explain it. You stand behind him for a bit, watching him play, but eventually get bored and start roaming around. You play a few games of Ms. Pacman, which you suck at. You move on to the driving games, which you’re better at, but still mediocre. Driving in real life is nothing like this, damn it.

Eventually, you spot the DDR machine. Now that’s your shit. Quick movement on your feet. You manage to score an A on every song you try, and beat any passerby who dares try to challenge you. You eventually remember John, and go back to find him. He’s still at the Galaga machine, what the fuck.

“Are you really still playing this damn game?” you ask him.

“Shh! I’ve almost beaten the high score!”

“Damn. Go hard or go home, I guess.”

You end up waiting another ten minutes or so before he finally finishes.

“Yes! I fucking did it! Bow to Egbert!” he excitedly cheers, pumping his fist in the air.

“Nice one, nerd,” you tease him. He responds with a gentle punch on the arm. “Come play DDR with me,” you continue.

“You play DDR?”

“I do now. Come on.”

John looks at you wide-eyed after your first game. You beat him by a mile.

“Where’d you learn to play like that?” he asks, surprised.

“Dude, I’m a natural. I didn’t spend all those years strifing and not come out without knowing how to be quick on my feet.”

“Well, whatever. I’ll beat you one of these games.”

In the end, he does not. You play about ten before he’s too tired to continue and gives up.

“Haha, bow to the king, Egbert,” you taunt.

“Only if you bow to the space emperor, Strider,” he grins.

“Fair enough.”

You both decide to call it a day after that. You get back in your car and start to drive back to John’s house when inspiration strikes you.

**== >**

“Uh, Dave, you’re going the wrong way,” John points out nervously.

“Only if I were going to your house.”

“Then where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He responds with a grumble. Soon enough, you pull into the parking lot of an Applebee’s. “You hungry, Egbert?”

“Wow, you’re taking me out to dinner, too? What a gentleman.” He pretends to swoon.

“Hell yeah I am. Striders don’t do anything less than the best.”

John rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

You both enter, and are quickly seated at a smaller table for two. As soon as you receive your food, you realize how hungry you actually are, and start scarfing it down. John evidently feels the same. Your meals are cleared in record time. You both feel stuffed, but order dessert anyways. You share a triple chocolate meltdown.

“Do you want separate checks?” the waiter asks when you’re finally finished. You say no, but John says yes at the same time. This leads to an argument about who’s paying, but eventually you win out and pay for the whole thing.

“I asked you on the date, no way I couldn’t pay the check,” you defend yourself. He doesn’t respond.

The trip back to his house is unusually silent. John’s staring out the window with a morose expression on his face. You’re familiar with this, but you decide to save it until you’re done driving. You finally stop him when you’re walking to the door.

“John?” you stop and look at him. He stops and looks back at you.

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

You didn’t seem that cheerful on the way home. I’ve spent a lot of time around you and I can tell when something’s bothering you but you don’t want to say.”

He sighs and droops his dead. “Yeah, ok.” You put your arms around his shoulders so that your faces are close together. He looks downward as he starts speaking.

“I just feel like... ugh, I don’t even know how to say this without sounding totally stupid,” he grimaces.

“Take your time,” you reassure him.

“Well, it’s just like, you’re doing so much for me, and I feel like I’m hardly doing anything in return,” he finally admits.

This catches you by surprise. “What makes you think that?”

“You’ve been there all throughout my fucking descent into madness, and you’ve always done your best to comfort me. And you had to deal with me being all stupid and then hurting myself and then almost dying and I’ve just been putting you through so much but I haven’t been able to do stuff like that for you and I just fucking feel so terrible.”

You quickly kiss him before giving him a tight hug. “Dude, you _are_ doing something in return. Being here with me, spending all this time with me, being my best friend, it all makes me so fucking happy. I wouldn’t give that up for anything. As long as you’re here with me, you’ll always be doing enough. I promise. Okay?” You pull out of the hug to look into his eyes, pushing up your shades to be extra serious. He looks on the verge of tears.

“Okay.” He leans his head on your shoulder for a gentler hug. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You gently rub his back. “Now, let’s go inside, cause it’s fucking cold out here.”

“You baby,” John teases with a sniffle.

You both walk into his house. As you’re removing your coats, a thought pops into your head.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot.”

“What is it?” John asks, looking back at you. You hold his hands in yours and look into his eyes. You suddenly feel a wave of apprehension rush through you. Chill. This will go fine.

“John Egbert,” you pause and take a deep breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Initially, he’s speechless. Then he breaks into a big smile.

“Hell yes! I would love to be your boyfriend, Dave Strider.”

“Good,” you chuckle, and pull him in for a kiss. It’s a deeper kiss, although your mouths are still. You’re relishing the moment when suddenly you hear someone speak.

“Hello, boys. How was–” John’s dad begins, before evaluating the scene before him.

“Dad!” John practically leaps off of you and turns toward him. “I, I, uh,” he panics.

“John, relax.” His dad comes up to pat him on the shoulder. “Everything is fine. It’s good to see you have someone who really makes you happy,” he smiles.

“But, uh,” John stammers.

“Son, I’m proud of you no matter what. Okay?” John nods gently. “Now, you two enjoy yourselves. I’ll be in the study.”

“Okay, dad,” John says quietly, still embarrassed.

You both go up to his room and shed your fancy attire. He spends a bit of time freakout out over his dad, but you manage to reassure him eventually. You two lie in bed for a bit, talking about whatever random subjects come up. The day has sapped a lot of the energy out of the both of you, though, and soon enough, John dozes off. You follow soon after.

 

 

**John: Merry Christmas**

You wake up in your bed on the morning of December 25th. Normally, this would cause you great excitement, and you would leap out of your bed to start your Christmas day. But you just can’t find the energy in you. You’ve been trying to feel excited for Christmas as much as you can, but it just hasn’t worked. You lay in bed lamenting the loss of your innocence before you finally get up. Dave isn’t with you this morning because his Bro wanted to spend time with him for Christmas Eve.

You get dressed and walk down the stairs, where you can already smell the stench of cake. Bleh. Your dad loves baking cakes so much that you’re sick of them now. But it’s Christmas, so you can’t argue. The Christmas tree is in the corner, all lit up, and there are a few presents under it. With just the two of you living in the house, there naturally won’t be a pile. That will change later, though. For the first year ever, your friends are all going to come over to exchange presents! That’s the only part that really interests you right now, seeing your friends.

 “Merry Christmas, son!” your dad exclaims as soon as you walk through the doors to the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas, dad,” you try to say with enthusiasm.

“I’ve almost got all the treats ready for this morning.” You examine the counter and see not only two cakes, but also a large assortment of cupcakes, and even a yule log. You wonder when your dad woke up.

They’re set to arrive around 11, but Dave arrives sooner. “God, it’s so much nicer to be here. Can your dad adopt me? Except not, because then us dating would be weird,” he rambles. You give him a kiss to shut him up. It works.

Rose and Jade arrive together, gifts in hand. After everyone exchanges greetings, including your dad, you delve into the gift giving portion. You still don’t feel as excited as you should be.

Rose goes first. She, naturally, gives all of you things she knitted herself. You get a sweater, Dave gets gloves, and Jade gets a hat with dog ears on it. She actually freaks out over it. “Ohmygod Rose, thank you!!! It’s so cute I love it!” she says excitedly and hugs her. “You’re quite welcome,” Rose responds.

The rest of you exchange gifts afterwards, raking in a satisfying amount of loot. After the gift giving is over, your dad invites you all into the kitchen for treats. You don’t feel hungry, though, so you end up slumped on the couch instead. Rose walks out of the kitchen a short while later, cupcake in hand. It’s just the two of you in the living room right now. She sits on the couch next to you.

“Your Christmas cheer seems to be off a bit this year,” she remarks. Damn her for being so perceptive.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ve been trying really hard to be excited, but it just isn’t working! I can hardly feel anything,” you vent in frustration. “Why do I have to be so messed up?”

“John, you’re not messed up. It’s okay to feel like that sometimes. In fact, it’s really common for people dealing with the things you are. Don’t force yourself to feel some way you don’t. Talking about it is the best way to help.”

“Ugh, why is talking about it always the answer?” you grumble.

“Such are the woes of human psychology. You are going to see a therapist, right?”

“After what I did, I basically have to. But yeah. I will be, soon.”

“That’s good. It’s really going to help. It won’t feel like it, but it will. I really want you to get better, John, we all do.”

“I know,” you murmur. Rose gives you an awkward side hug. “Thanks.”

“My office is always open,” she tells you. She then stands up and returns to the kitchen. Dave comes out not long afterwards and takes the same seat Rose was sitting in.

“Hey babe,” he says gently.

“Did Rose send you out here?”

“Well, she talked to me, but I wanted to see you anyway. Don’t worry about it.” He pulls you in so that you’re leaning into his side with his arm around you. “I’m sorry you’re feeling shitty. Is there anything I can do?” he asks.

“Probably not, unless you find a magic cure for my brain.”

“Yeah, if only,” he laments.

“This is nice, though.”

“Good.” You both sit there in silence after that, and everybody soon returns to the living room. You’ve all decided to watch A Christmas Story. Rose and Jade join you on the couch, while your dad sits in his chair.

As the movie’s starting, Dave gives you a kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, John.”

“Merry Christmas, Dave.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for braving this noob writer's work! Comment on what you liked, what you think could be better, or just to say shit. <3


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